Whispers of Hope
by Smokestar
Summary: The islanders are the descendants of rouges, traitors of the clans. Cast out from the forest forever. But now, things have changed. These cats have no knowledge of their warrior roots. And now, the island, their only home, has been destroyed. If they are to survive they must use their warrior skills, wit, and instincts.
1. Exiled

**Chapter 1/The Exile**

The ghostly fog cast a gloomy feeling of uneasiness on the dark green ShadowClan forest.

Dead silent.

A crow caws.

A cat's horrified shriek breaks the silence.

Scuffling, cat screams, and the stench of blood wafted from the woods.

"Traitors! Fox-hearted traitors!" yowled one

The violence grew closer and closer to the edge of the marsh and pine trees. Yowls viciously followed. In the shadows, outlines of cats could be seen mauling and striking and biting.

Finally, two warriors threw a huge black tom across the border. He roared at them in protest. He was followed by a lithe dark gray she-cat, who was being pinned by dark warrior.

"Get off me!" she spat as she squirmed under his claws. Her attacker merely hissed.

"Blackfang! Help!"

"Toadsky! Help Herontail!" yowled Blackfang as he clawed a small warrior across the muzzle.

Toadsky, a light gray cat, bounded from the marsh. He rounded up, and raked his claws down the dark warrior's back.

"AH! GET AWAY YOU-"

As quick as a viper, Toadsky swiftly kicked around the dark tom's hind legs, causing him to tumble, and roll onto his back. He looked up nervously at Toadsky. He stared back his his ferocious green eyes. The dark cat quickly scrambled to his paws and scrambled away. Toadsky, Blackfang, and Herontail glanced at one another, then at the forest.

"Let's go, we're the only rebels left," growled Blackfang.

"But Morningheart and Spiderstripe are still in there!" meowed Herontail anxiously.

A huge, muscular golden tom leads his warriors closer to the outnumbered cats.

"Toadsky!" he bellowed, "You were my most trusted deputy! How could you betray your own clan and kin?"

"I betrayed your way of life, Lionstar. I did this for my kin!" yowled Toadsky. Lionstar's face only angered. He dug his yellow claws into the ground.

"Leave, you rouge, or die!"

Suddenly, a large group of cats gathered around the ShadowClan border. A silver tom stood above the others.

"Dewstar. Leader of ThunderClan. I assume you managed to exterminate all the traitors within your boundaries?" asked Lionstar.

"We drove them out, yes. But only one life was lost within our borders."

Lionstar narrowed his eyes.

"We came chasing two rouges. We just caught them, and were escorting them to the border," he nodded to two cats, a dark ginger she-cat, and a pale tom with with stripes, who both lowered their heads in shame.

Dewstar just stared at them, "Well? What are you waiting for? Leave! You're not welcome here!" The two cats joined Herontail Blackfang and Toadsky. Blackfang shot the leaders a menacing glance, before joining his allies in the other direction. They slumped away in shame until the forest was no longer in sight. The five outcasts took shelter inside a fallen tree when it began to rain.

"Spiderstripe! Morningheart! Where were you?" growled Blackfang.

Spiderstripe glared up at Blackfang, "The warriors drove an attack down the river. It messed up our attack plan."  
"I _told_ you to make a back-up plan in case something like that happened!

"That _was_ our back-up plan! Maybe if you-"

"Oh, stop quarreling like kits! We get it, the uprising against the leaders failed," snapped Herontail, waving her dark gray tail in frustration, "No use in arguing about it now."

The five cat sat there in silence, only the rain battering at the tree could be heard. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"What do you think happened to the rest of the rebels?" meowed Morningheart, breaking the silence.

"Most were driven out, far past twolegplace. They scattered us pretty good to make sure we couldn't counter-attack. A lot of them were killed, though. Mostly around Sunningrocks, where most of the battle was taking place. But I'm the only ShadowClan converter that survived," explained Toadsky, sadly, "Lionstar wasn't showing any mercy."

Morningheart glanced at the other three cats, "Well? Would do we do now?"

Herontail and Toadsky exchanged glances. Blackfang shuffled a leaf with his paw.

"We attacked the leaders to end the reign of one supreme leader," piped Spiderstripe, "The only way to bring our ideas to life is to pursue it ourselves."

Blackfang cocked his head, "You mean, rally the rebels? We could try, but most of them are long gone-"

"No. I...well...um,"

"What?"

"We may have no hope of rallying the rebels, or going back to the clans. We have no place in this land, let alone to stay. Our goal, for many seasons, was to start a new era. A time of peace, with less battles. But maybe we didn't need a full-scale rebellion, or master attack plan to make that happen."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we can start a legacy by ourselves, we don't need five clans to accomplish that. We can start a new clan, or tribe, or colony or whatever. There will be a system we've always dreamed of establishing. We'll be the founding members, and our descendants will follow our footsteps," explained Spiderstripe.

Herontail rubbed her head against Toadsky's, "Well, I have always wanted kits. And we won't have to worry about an uprising."

Toadsky purred.

"But where will we go? We certainly can't stay here," meowed Morningheart.

"Of course not. We'll find a new place," grumbled Blackfang.

"Yeah, we can be a new clan! Mix-a-clan!" exclaimed Spiderstripe.

Morningheart rolled her eyes.

"Nah. Maybe a a gang? Society? Set?" said Blackfang.

Herontail flicked her tail, "Let's not focus on what we're calling our little alliance. We have more important things to discuss.

And throughout the stormy day and into the night, the five rouges discussed indeed. Soon after, they took a great journey, miles and miles away from their great defeat. After moons of exploring the countryside, they found two mighty rivers. In between was a glorious island. After several litters of kits had been properly raised here, they decided to call themselves The Islanders. Their vast and protective home was a paradise to the former rouges. They spent moons there. These moons turned into seasons. Seasons turned to years. The cats had found their new home. They spent several generations here, passing on their long-hoped for way of life. The original five, Blackfang, Herontail, Spiderstripe, Morningheart and Toadsky decided never to share any knowledge of their history, the rebellion, or even the clans. But they agreed to keep a few clan traditions alive, such as the naming system, but began their own culture. Life wasn't perfect, of course. Swamp cat regularly harassed the Islanders. Large beasts were common. But despite the challenges, the Islanders made a successful community, with successful kits and plenty of prey. The reign of the Islanders has begun. But for how long was unsure.


	2. The Allegiances

**The Islanders**

 **Owlheart** -Dark ginger tom with light green eyes.

 **Otterstreak-** Pretty ginger and white she-cat with bright pink nose.

 **Doegaze-** Black tortoiseshell she-cat with clear, striking green eyes. (Mother of Dawnkit: Red-ginger and white she-kit)

 **Batflight-** Small black tom with bat-like ears and yellow eyes.

 **Apprentice: Foxpaw**

 **Featherfoot-** Fluffy, light ginger tom with long whiskers and ear tufts.

 **Goldenberry-** Golden, slightly pudgy tabby she-cat with green eyes. (Mother of Mumblekit: brown tabby tom, Squirrelkit: ash-colored tom, and Moonkit: Silver tabby tom.)

 **Flowermist-** Gray torbie she-cat with patches of ginger and olive green eyes.

 **Plumpoppy-** Brown and white tortoiseshell she-cat with a black and ginger tail. (Mother of Ratkit: Gray tabby and white tom with patches of ginger, and blue-green golden eyes.)

 **Pouncefoot-** Lean, long legged dark gray tabby tom with a long tail.

 **Stealthmouse-** Keen, brown tabby she cat with yellow green eyes.

 **Snaketail-** Sandy-ginger and white tom with bright pink nose.

 **Apprentice: Honeypaw**

 **Witherfoot-** Sleek, sandy-colored ginger tom with golden eyes and quick paws.

 **Streakmist-** Torbie she-cat with colorful swirling streaks of black, ginger, auburn, tan, white, chestnut, gray, silver, and burnt brown.

 **Apprentice: Hawkpaw**

 **Snailpelt-** Longhaired cream tom with swirling, dark ginger stripes.

 **Apprentice: Blackpaw**

 **Coppertail-** Muscular, dark cream-tannish to with white paws.

 **Jaggedear-** Brown tabby tom with light green, almost neon eyes.

 **Foxpaw-** Ginger and white tom with pink nose and foxlike whiskers.

 **Honeypaw-** Amber ginger she-cat with fern-green eyes.

 **Blackpaw-** Jet black tom with thick tail.

 **Hawkpaw-** Calico she-cat with dark green eyes and distinctive black patch on her face.


	3. The First Snow

_(Please note: The allegiances from before take place for this chapter and so on, not_ The Exile. The Exile _takes place 6 years before this chapter. Thanks for viewing and enjoy!)_

 **Chapter 2/ The First Snow**

The hazel she-cat Honeypaw sat gracefully on a small platform of a small, steep mountain, staring into the nothingness of the cloudy night sky. Everything was quiet. Other than the waterfall gushing behind her. The black slits in her eyes darted back and forth, following the slow snowflakes as they fell from their heavens.

Honeypaw had lost her sister, moons ago. The memory of it haunted her.

Now everything seemed wrong, and meaningless. It wasn't right to celebrate passing her junior assessment. It wasn't right to stretch carelessly in the shade of the autumn maple trees. It wasn't right to sleep, and it wasn't right to eat. It felt wrong to be happy without her sister.

Honeypaw lifted her head. She watched stars peak through the clouds as it glided over. A star twinkled brighter, almost has if it was looking at her. Her green eye gazed into it. She could almost hear it whisper,

 _Honeypaw...Honeypaw! Over here!_

"Seedkit? Seedkit, is that you? It's me, Honeypaw!"

The star floated closer to the horizon.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" Honeypaw stood up. She bent down as if about to jump.

"I'm coming!"

"Honeypaw?"

Honeypaw jerked her head around to see a brown tabby warily walking toward her.

"Honeypaw? What on earth are you doing?"

The hazel she-cat looked back at the horizon. The star was gone.

"I was...I was just...nothing. Sorry to wake you, Stealthmouse."

"It's fine," Stealthmouse leapt soundlessly next to Honeypaw, "But I've been getting worried about you. It's been a while since, you know."

"Yeah. Everyone says that death happens and I should just move on. But I can't. I feel like Seedkit was a part of me, and now that she's gone...well, I feel like a part of me has died as well."

Stealthmouse nodded and licked Honeypaw's ears, "I know, losing a sister is probably the worst thing in the world. I don't know what I'd do without Streakmist."

Honeypaw studied her paws. Stealthmouse went on.

"Say, when you were a small kit, when old Spiderstripe was still alive, did he ever tell you stories?"

"Sometimes. But that was a very long time ago."

"Did he ever tell you the legend of StarClan?"

"No."

"Well, it goes like this. Many moons ago, Spiderstripe lived in groups of cats called clans. They live much like us, but had territories, battles, one leader, and you could only be friends with or love someone if they were in your clan."

Honeypaw looked up into Stealthmouse's wide face with interest.

"But most importantly, they believed that when they died, their soul would leave their bodies and climb into the stars, where prey was plentiful and watched over the living. This place is called StarClan. They think that at night when you look at the stars, you're really looking at remembered warriors as they hunt in the sky."

Honeypaw thought about it for a second, "So, are you saying Seedkit may be watching me? It sounds like another one of the crazy elder tales."

Stealthmouse stood up, "You might not believe what distant cats with different beliefs believe, but Seedkit's soul might still be around us, watching over you. Would she be happy to watch you be like this?" She jumped down and headed toward a thorny hedge, "Think about it, ok? I'll see you in the morning."

Honeypaw sat alone, with snowflakes now gathering on her fur. She turned back to face the gray sky. Was Seedkit really watching her? Was she hunting with other dead cats, like Spiderstripe, or Shadowpaw? She could not be sure. The voice she heard could have been real, or in her head. Whichever it was, it was whisper. It was hope. It was a whisper of hope.

The huge island the cats inhabited was very large. A proud, steep mountain stood near the center. This is where the Islanders lived.

On a ledge, where Honeypaw and Stealthmouse had talked, several cats were sharing tongues in the misty morning light.

"Good morning, Goldenberry. A lovely day, isn't it?" meowed a dark tortoiseshell.

"Sure is, Doegaze. Best we've had in days. And the frostiest," replied the golden tabby.

"And it'll be Dawnkit's first snow, too. Oh, she's been so excited to see some snow!" said Doegaze, her pale green eyes shining.

While the queens chatted away, four kits bounded across the wide ledge, frosted with an inch of snow. Their small paws pressed into the snow as they scampered around. The largest, a red and white tabby, pounced on top of a pebble.

"I win again! Come on, guys! Squirrelkit! Hurry up!" she yowled.

"No, you slow down, Dawnkit! You're like, three moons older than us," huffed Squirrelkit, waving his fluffy dark gray tail. Mumblekit bounded ahead of his brother through the snow.

"Good thing we aren't the youngest anymore, right guys?" the little brown tabby glanced from Dawnkit to Squirrelkit awkwardly. They exchanged glances. Mumblekit stared at his paws. Suddenly, a silver kit ran up and leapt on top of Squirrelkit, causing a snow explosion with a soft _puff!_

"Hey! Get off me, Moonkit!"

"Never, you swamp cat!" howled Squirrelkit. Moonkit dug his claws into Squirrelkit's scruff and dragged him onto his back, pinning him down.

"Impressive," sighed Dawnkit.

Moonkit swung his head with pride, "Thanks."

"Butchya can't beat me!" squealed Dawnkit as she pounced onto Moonkit.

"Hey!"

Dawnkit quickly pinned him on his side.

"That's not fair, Dawnkit! Why can't you wrestle someone your own size?"

"Because...there isn't anyone my own size? You'll understand when Plumpoppy's kits are old enough to leave the nursery."

Mumblekit licked his paw, then looked up hopefully, "Can we play chase?"

"Let's play moss ball!" hollered Squirrelkit as he pounced on a clod of moss, ignoring Mumblekit.

Moonkit and Dawnkit tussled after Squirrelkit through the snow, yelping and laughing.

Mumblekit just sat, watching his littermates play with the older she-kit. He twitched his brown tabby tail with irritation. Mumblekit hated this game. And his brothers knew it.

 _"Mew!"_

Mumblekit turned his head toward the entrance to the nursing den. A small kit emerged from the the huge hole, gaping at the waterfall beside it. His huge, green eyes stared at the frosty ground, amber sky and the waterfall and it tumbled down. A brown and white tortoiseshell, Plumpoppy, followed him. She looked up proudly at the other kits.

"Kits! Come here!" she called. Goldenberry and Doegaze watched from across the clearing.

The other three kits trotted over like little squirrels. The tiny kit hid between his mother's legs.

"Oh, don't be shy, say hi to the other kits!" meowed Plumpoppy. The little kit slowly stepped into the sun, adjusting to the new light.

"Sweetie, this is Moonkit, Squirrelkit, Mumblekit and Dawnkit. Kits, this is Ratkit."

Dawnkit squinted at him when she heard the name. Now that she'd said that, his round-tipped ears, straight whiskers, yellow-ringed green eyes, round face and narrow muzzle started to ressemble a rat. His posture even made him look rat-like. He was tabby and white, with some of it ginger, and some of it gray with black stripes. Ratkit looked back up at the bigger kits. His mother had made meeting older kittens sound so easy.

But now that he'd actually seen how big they were, he wasn't so sure. Even though most of them were only two moons old, they were more than twice as big as him!

Finally, Mumblekit stepped forward.

"Uh, hi Ratkit. Do you know any games?" he asked.

"No," muttered Ratkit. Plumpoppy smiled.

"This is his first time leaving the nursing den, kits. Why don't you show him around the gathering area?" suggested Plumpoppy.

Dawnkit's eyes lit up, "Of course! Right this way, Ratkit!"

"Careful to keep him away from the edge!"

"We will!" squealed Squirrelkit.

Ratkit playfully bounded after the larger kits. His round little face glowed, and his gray and ginger tabby fur riddled with snowflakes.

Dawnkit quickly took the lead, crawling through a tunnel through a prickly hedge, leading to an even larger platform.

"This, Ratkit, is the gathering platform!" announced Dawnkit. Her red-ginger ears stood up toward the platform. Ratkit looked around with eyes of wonder.

"What happens here?" he asked.

"It's where most of the dens are. It's also where we, you know, gather," explained Moonkit.

Ratkit saw many cats huddled around dens, sharing prey. There were so many cats, everywhere! A tabby with the longest legs Ratkit had ever seen shared tongues with a stealthy-looking brown tabby she-cat. Two ginger toms, whom looked like brothers, chased one another across the platform like a pair of chipmunks. A group of smaller cats tossed prey, laughing and playing. One of them, a ginger and white tom with a bright pink nose turned his head, and smiled at the new tabby kit. He winked one of his bronze eyes at him. Ratkit dashed to Dawnkit's side.

"Who's that?" he whispered into her ear.

"That's Foxpaw. He's one of the cats in training."

"What do they train for?"

"They learn to hunt, and the skills of living on the island."

"Like what?"

"Climbing, swimming, running,"

"Can I talk to them?"

"You were afraid to talk to me a minute ago!"

"Well, can you-"

"Let's save questions for later, ok?"

Dawnkit led them to a slate stairway, which led to a slate den, the frame sticking out of the side of the mountain.

"This is where the curers cure," she meowed.

"Who are the curers?" asked Ratkit eagerly.

Just then, the two ginger toms zoomed past them. The lighter one jumped out and landed on the other.

"Ha! I win!" the sandy one hollered. Ratkit thought it was funny full-grown toms were playing like kittens.

Dawnkit leaned down and whispered in Ratkit's ear, "Those are Snaketail," the darker one ran past them, "...and Witherfoot," the sandy-colored one chased him up the slate into the den, "They're the brilliant curers of this island, but they're still a couple of mouse-brained brothers."

Then, a shadow crept up on the kits. A black tom padded past the stampede of kits, only giving them an unnerving glance with his yellow eyes.

"And that," said Dawnkit, "Is Batflight. I wouldn't get to fresh with him until you've like, saved the islanders from certain death, or something."

His eerie black tail flicked as he turned into a corner. The five kits merely stared at it.

Dawnkit nudged Ratkit's shoulder, "Hey, come over here! There's something I wanna show you!" she exclaimed, breaking the silence.

Moonkit jumped ahead across the platform toward a corner, which tucked itself into the mountain. Strange stones in the walls lighted it. Three trees grew narrowly around five, dusty stone pillars, their roots wrapped around them. Ratkit looked up at them in awe. They were magnificent. So different, yet so united. The first one had seedlings and young undergrowth growing through the cracks. A thunderbolt was engraved on the front.

The second one was lined with damp reeds, and the dents and cracks were neatly woven shut. It was moist, and smelled of the river. The engraving was of ripples, like water.

The top of the third one was covered in marshy moss, and damages were filled with sap, giving it a pine scent. The symbol was hard to read, like three half-moons making a shadowy face.

The fourth one had the deepest markings. They were of swirling lines, like the wind. They made Ratkit want to run, to feel the breeze in his fur. Heather and long grass grew around it.

The last one was the tallest one. Whoever had been on top of this pillar must not have been afraid of heights! It had vines from very tall trees growing around an engraving of an oak tree. The bottom was lined with acorn shells, and bird feathers.

Ratkit felt a strange sense of pride standing in this grand corner.

"This place," muttered Dawnkit, "Is where we gather for celebrations and ceremonies. These are where the council members have private meetings."

The five kits stared up at the pillars. This place was such a sacred one.

"What do you kits think you're doing in here!?" growled a huge, tan tom. The kits jumped at his stern words.

"Run!" yelped Dawnkit. The five of them ran from the corner, the muscular tan tom growling behind them.

The kits all ran across the clearing, through the hedge, and right back into the nursing den. Ratkit was horrified. What if the mean cat found them? Squirrelkit and Moonkit were giggling away. Suddenly, a huge dark shape appeared in the walkway.

"Shhh! Sh! Here he comes!" squealed the kits.

"Where did those naughty kits go? When I find them, I'll catch them and eat them for breakfast!" he growled

Squirrelkit snorted from holding back laughter.

"There they are!" he roared. Ratkit quivered in fear as he bounded over, and flipped over the den they were hiding in.

"Attack!" howled Dawnkit. The kits all tumbled in top of the tom knocking him off his paws and running all over him.

"Ah! Hey, I, Ouch! Get off!"

Dawnkit leapt onto his muscular shoulders and bit into his ear.

"Ok, alright! You win!"

The four kits burst out laughing, climbing onto the huge tom.

Dawnkit caught Ratkit's confused stare. She rolled off the cream-tan tom.

"It's ok, Ratkit! He isn't a bad guy, this is just Coppertail. The best babysitter ever!"

"Is he your dad?" asked Ratkit

"Well, no. But I hope he's one of my mentors, though!"

Mentors? Babysitter? Dawnkit was using so many confusing words.

Coppertail pushed the kits off his pelt as if they were pesky mice. He turned to Ratkit and grinned.

"So this is the newest member of the mountain! What'd you say your name was?" he asked.

"Uh, Ratkit, sir," stuttered Ratkit.

Coppertail tilted his head, "Ratkit, eh? I can see why. Your yellow-green eyes are intense," he held out his paw, "Welcome to the island, Ratkit." Ratkit hesitantly touched the huge tom's paw.

Just then, Goldenberry wandered into the nursing den, looking quite irritated, "Moonkit! Squirrelkit! Mumblekit! Where have you been? You better not have been venturing through the tunnels again-"

"Relax, Mom. We were just showing Ratkit around the gathering area," meowed Moonkit.

"Oh! Ratkit! It's the first time I've seen you with your eyes-" Goldenberry frowned when she saw Ratkit's wide, rat-like eyes, with his tiny pink nose and straight whiskers all together. Ratkit felt his heart lurch. Why was Goldenberry frowning? Was something wrong with his face? Ratkit looked at his paws. Finally, Goldenberry wrapped her tail around her three kits, "Come on, boys," she mewed sternly, leading them away.

Mumblekit stopped and looked at Ratkit sympathetically, then caught up with his brothers.

Coppertail rolled his dark gray eyes, "Ignore Goldenberry, Ratkit. You'll show her one day," he growled lowly as he disappeared into the hedge.

Ratkit felt a burning desire in him. _Yes. I'll show her one day._

Plumpoppy strode in the nursing den as Goldenberry led her kits out. She gave her a confused look, who stuck her golden nose in the air. Plumpoppy shook it off as she came over to her son and began to wash him.

"So what did you think of the gathering area, Ratkit?" she asked. Ratkit glanced at Dawnkit.

"It was cool. There were a lot of cats," he muttered. Dawnkit beamed.

"Oh, yeah! Ratkit loved it, Plumpoppy. He seemed particularly interested in the meeting cave."

Plumpoppy raised her head.

"Oh were you, Ratkit? That's great! Most kits don't understand their importance until Preparation."

"What importance?"

"Well Ratkit, each pillar represents a council member. There are always five: Thunder, River, Shadow, Wind, and Sky. For example, if the Thunder council member dies or retires, the Islanders will vote on whomever they think is the best at hunting in the forest, or undergrowth. Then he'll be the new Thunder council member," explained Plumpoppy.

"Who are they now?" asked Ratkit.

Dawnkit looked up, "Well, Owlheart is the Thunder member, Otterstreak is River, my mom, Doegaze, is Shadow, Batflight is Wind, and this tom called Featherfoot is Sky." Ratkit thought for a second.

"What about those two curers? Snaketail and Witherfoot?"

"They know about herbs, and how to fix cats and stuff," said Dawnkit, "Snaketail has an apprentice, Honeypaw. When she passes initiation she'll become a curer too."

Ratkit yawned. All this learning was making him tired.

"Are you ready for a morning nap, my little mouse?" meowed Plumpoppy. Ratkit nodded.

"Dawnkit?" he mewed, "Do you want to sleep in our nest?"

"No. I don't take morning naps anymore. Besides, I never sleep in the nursing den anymore. I sleep in the romper den with Moonkit Squirrelkit and Mumblekit," said Dawnkit as she stretched before leaving the den, taking a sip from the waterfall on her way out.

"Close you eyes, my little mouse. Forget your worries. Listen to the waterfall. I'll always be here, right by your side,"

Ratkit closed his eyes, falling into the tune of the cold water. Slowly he felt his woes slip away as he fell into a sound sleep, nuzzled in his mother's soft white fur.

 **Whew! Long Chapter.**

 **Warning: Most of my chapters will be fairly long. So brace yourselves if you hate long chapters**


	4. The Stags

**Chapter 3/The Stags**

 **(Please review if you get the chance! I'd really appreciate it!** **)**

In the peak of the day, deep in the forest, the sun shined through the tall trees, splotching the ground with sunlight. Two small kits padded through, alone.

The ginger one stopped and lifted her paw.

"Um, I think we're lost," she mewed.

The brown and white one leapt through a patch of ferns, "Naw. As long as we can see the mountain, we're fine."

The ginger kit nodded nervously.

They scampered down a small slope, stopping before a small, deep stream. The water rushed and gurgled between the large stones.

"I see a fish!" squealed the brown and white one. The ginger one wrinkled her nose.

"Gross. I would never get my paws wet for a stinky, slimy fish," she retorted.

The brown and white one ignored her. She crouched down, lifted her paw, and...

SPLASH

"Ah! Help!"

The ginger one looked down at her with a worried face, "Are you ok?"

"Don't just stand there! Help me!" she yowled, as water began to pour into her submerging mouth.

Her sister reached her ginger paw out, "Grab my paw!"

The brown and white kit flung her white paws in the air, unable to get a grip. The current moved faster and faster, narrowly around sharp stones. It began to pull her under.

"Seedkit? Seedkit!" screamed the ginger kit. Her sister's brown and white pelt could no longer be seen.

"Oh no! Seedkit! Swim, Seedkit!" she begged.

The murky water no longer rippled from the drowning kit's movements.  
"Please! Don't leave me! I'm coming, Seedkit!" the ginger kit bent down, about to jump.

Honeypaw gasped from her nest, panting and gasping. Snaketail was prodding her shoulder with his golden paw.

"Time to get up, Honeypaw. We gotta go collect some whitebloom."

Right. Whitebloom. Honeypaw shook the sweat from her ears, stretched out, and leapt from her nest. The pain from her headache and sleepy cramped ankles reminded her of the dreaded dream. Honeypaw shook it off as she padded from the slate den and looked down at the gathering area.

The dawn sky was a dark blue, and yellow light peeked from the east horizon. Like the day before, the vast island was covered in a thin layer of snow.

"You sure the whiteblooms would survive this frost?" meowed Honeypaw groggily, as she slowly stepped down the stairway.

"A little snow never killed a whitebloom," replied Snaketail, "And a good thing, too. Whiteblooms are our most effective herbs."

Underneath the slate den, level with the gathering area, was a lichen-curtained hole. Six cats strode through it.

Witherfoot wove his pale-sandy tail in delight as he got to his paws.

"Finally! I'm starving."

Batflight, who was leading them, dropped three black squirrels into the stone dome. The other five cats did the same with their prey. After the last piece of prey was dropped into the bowl, Witherfoot quickly snatched a plump chipmunk from the pile and tore it up a wolf. Snaketail only wrinkled his nose.

"Honestly. I understand why other Islanders like rodents, but why my identical brother?" he remarked.

Witherfoot lifted his red muzzle from his prey, "We're identical? That can't be right. I'm way too smart. However, if you told me it was a badger..."

Snaketail lunged at him playfully. Honeypaw watched them, feeling bittersweet. She felt a shiver when she thought of the dream.

By this time, the horizon was beginning to glow. Cats left their dens and began to pick and share prey. Dawnkit up and awake, as usual, eating prey with her mother and other queens. They spoke rather loudly.

"Say Otterstreak, what time did you five decide to have Ratkit's Islander ceremony?" asked Stealthmouse.

"Sunrise, I believe. Plumpoppy wasn't too happy about that," meowed Otterstreak. Stealthmouse glanced at the rising sun.

"We'd better finish quickly, then."

Snaketail suddenly looked up at these words. Then he turned to Witherfoot and Honeypaw.

"Oh, I forgot all about the ceremony!" he exclaimed.

"We'll just go after, no big deal," said Witherfoot.

Snaketail scowled, "Like any whitebloom will still be visible that late." Honeypaw rolled her eyes. Snaketail always liked having his way.

As the cats began to move to the meeting cave, Dawnkit bounced up to Honeypaw, swatting at her hazel ginger tail.

"Hi, Honeypaw!"

"Oh, g'morning, Dawnkit," muttered Honeypaw, pulling her tail away.

"Guess what? Guess what? It's been a quarter-moon! You said you would take me to gather herbs!"

Honeypaw glanced at Dawnkit, "Did I, now?"

"Yup!"

Honeypaw sighed, "Ok. You can with us after the ceremony. Bring Ratkit, too. He hasn't seen the island, yet."

Dawnkit playfully jumped after Honeypaw's tail into the meeting cave. By now the tip of the sun was peaking over the horizon. The golden light lit up the meeting cave. It was sunrise.

The five council cats made their way in and took their positions.

Owlheart and Otterstreak began talking at once, "Today we gather-"

"Owlheart! It's my turn!"

"Is not!" hissed the ginger tom

"Uh, yes it is!"

Honeypaw sighed as the two argued. It was true. Littermates never seem to agree. Her eyes darted around the meeting cave, resting on Ratkit. The little scrap was sitting on a flat, smooth stone in the center of the room. His wide, yellow-green eyes stared up at the council members. Ratkit always seemed so serious with his strange stare. It was eerie, it, it was rat-like!

"Oh, shut up and start the ceremony!" yowled Snaketail. Oakheart and Otterstreak glanced at him, and then nodded.

Otterstreak cleared her throat, "Today we gather to initiate Ratkit as a full Islander."

Plumpoppy's splotched chest was swelling with pride. Otterstreak went on, speaking the traditional words.

"Ratkit, today your journey begins. On this journey, you will find what it means to be a true Islander. From your several stages of training, to your days as an elder, remember to never stop learning. I, Otterstreak, rightful river council member of the island, bless you with honesty, strength and wisdom, and hereby declare you a full Islander!"

"Ratkit! Ratkit! Ratkit!" yowled the other Islanders. Honeypaw raised her golden head and shouted out his name one more time. Ratkit glanced around the cave with his goofy, bashful grin.

Immediately after the ceremony, Snaketail rounded up Witherfoot and his apprentice.

"Ok! Let's _go!_ " he meowed. He beckoned them to the lichen-curtained hole underneath the slate den.

"Wait one more second, Snaketail. I promised Dawnkit and Ratkit I would bring them along," said Honeypaw. Snaketail groaned.

Witherfoot jabbed his brother, "You complain about everything, you old badger. Honestly, they're just, kits."

"Yeah, clumsy kits that always mess everything up."

Dawnkit and Ratkit padded up from behind him. Snaketail looked behind him.

"Never mind," he breathed. Dawnkit and Ratkit exchanged glances. Witherfoot chuckled as he wandered into the lichen hole.

The five of them traveled through the pitch-black tunnels, their paws scraping at the dusty ground. Honeypaw knew Dawnkit was thrilled, but Ratkit seemed to tense up. He clearly wouldn't ever be named a true wind cat, where one of your duties was to patrol tunnels. See, when an adult cat proves to be a potential council cat, they're named one of five positions based on their skills and interests. About half of all cats end up getting named in their lifetimes.

"You ok, Ratkit?" asked Witherfoot.

"Um, uh-huh."

"Yup, he's horrified."

"Seriously, Snaketail, you really do have a way with kits."

"Why thank you, Honeypaw."

"I'm being sarcastic, you dope!"

"Well, maybe I don't believe in sarcasm."  
"Well maybe you're a mouse-brain."

"Well maybe you'll have to clean out all the elder's dens for a moon, Honeypaw."

"You're no fun, Snaketail."

"Yup."

"It's ok if you're nervous, Ratkit. Most everyone is on their first trip from the mountain," meowed Honeypaw. Ratkit's eyes widened.

"We're leaving the mountain?" he asked. Dawnkit nodded.

"Yeah! And you're going to love it. Honeypaw's gonna show us around the island! And them collect burps!"

"You mean, herbs?" corrected Witherfoot.

"That's what I meant!"

Ratkit felt his whiskers quiver, "Why do we have to take this way to leave the mountain?"

"Well, because it's the only way off the mountain," said Dawnkit.

"Yeah, that or you can jump."

"Snaketail!"

White Honeypaw quarreled with her mentor; Ratkit cautiously crept behind the pack. The cool, eerie breeze and the hollow moans seemed to whisper to him. The cold shadow of it chilled him to the bone. And it was dark, too. With his hardly moon-old eyes, he relied completely on his sensitive whiskers and hearing. Was this really the only way to leave the mountain? Ratkit didn't think he could do it every day. Finally, when he thought he could take it no more, the tunnel began to light up.

"Are we almost there?" asked Ratkit, his voice lined with panic.

Dawnkit nodded vigorously and bounced ahead, which Ratkit was beginning to find she liked to do.

At the end of the tunnel, she turned back, her dark shape outlined in the exit.

"Hurry up, you turtle-pokes! Oh, Ratkit! Come on, you gotta see this!"

The little gray-and-ginger tabby scampered next to his red den mate. What he saw next he never would have imagined in the nursing den.

It was...it was...well, to a pathetic little kit like him, there were no words to describe to beautiful scene.

It was a silvery misty morning. Everything was covered in a layer of crispy frost, which glazed the trees. Sunlight graciously peeked through the trees, casting milky golden light across the clearing. But it was the sight within the clearing that made Ratkit gap. In nature's spotlights, six very tall, handsome beasts stood in the clearing. They were much, much taller than any of the cats on the mountain, and covered with thick brown pelts. Their strange hooves engraved the mossy floor. But weirdest of all, they had sharp, stick-like claws that stuck through their heads!

Snaketail and the others padded behind the kits

"Quite a sight, don't you think, Ratkit?" meowed Snaketail.

"What are those things?" he wondered aloud.

"Why, those are stags. The stags of first winter, we call them. Those magnificent creatures only come to the island after the first snow, to feed on whiteblooms. Then they leave," explained Snaketail.

The cats stood there for a moment, gazing at the beasts. Ratkit was fascinated. Their unusual deer-shape, their head-claws, even their stubby tails. Ratkit was in particular a rather curious kit. Never in his short life had he ever stopped asking questions. As his stare wondered to the stag's face, they locked eyes. The kit and the beast, it was hard to remember they all lived on the same island, no matter appearance. But the stags had such eyes. They were big and dark, yet a thought of bravery and hope. Ratkit embraced the creature's stare.

"Right. Better get moving. I want to get some whitebloom before all the deer eat em' up," said Snaketail, breaking the peaceful silence.

With that, they began to travel to the long, north side of the island. Their paws softy crunched through the frosty snow. They traveled in a single-file line, for Honeypaw explained that this was the proper way healers would scout for herbs.

As the sun began to hover far above the horizon, they came to a small stream.

Witherfoot sniffed around, then lifted his head, snow frosting his muzzle.

"Alright! I found a spot!" he called.

"Really? Already?" asked Honeypaw as she bounded through the snow, "It usually takes till sunhigh!" With that, Honeypaw and Snaketail too, began to brush and dig in search of the tiny white flowers.

"Ratkit?" whispered Dawnkit, snapping him out of a bored daze.

"What?"

"They're distracted! Let's go see where those stag thingies went!" rasped Dawnkit into Ratkit's ear.

Ratkit shuffled his white paws, "But we might get lost. Besides, I don't want to get in trouble."

Dawnkit rolled her eyes.

"Well, it's better than marching through snow, find little flowers all morning. Are you honestly having fun, or even enjoying this a little?"

Now that Dawnkit had said it, this whole trip had been kind of boring. Not the stags, but Ratkit wasn't all that interested in herbs. He flicked his gray tail out of the snow.

"Ok. But please not too far."

Dawnkit nodded her dark ginger head solemnly, "I promise," she vowed.

A few minutes later, they were very far from the others.

It seemed impossible to track the stags. They were faster than they could imagine, and their scent was difficult for the young kits to follow. Their tracks where confusing, as well. Ratkit could never tell which direction the animal was moving. Now, they wondered side by side through the frosty forest, without any clue where they were.

"Well, I've gotta say Dawnkit, your tracking skills are truly one of a kind."

"It wasn't my fault! You _insisted_ that the stags moved south. And you're convincing for some reason!"

"So you trusted a moon-old kit, barely a true islander, over your own instincts."

"Whatever. We just have to get back to the mountain. And I'm pretty sure we've just proven an ordeal it is to do simple navigating," sighed Dawnkit in defeat as she slumped into the snow.

Ratkit sat tall and scowled down at his peer. He hated it when older kits tried to use big words too much. It made them seem so much smarter and him more like a troublesome kit. Suddenly, a creamy white moth fluttered past his nose. It spiraled up into the air, higher than Ratkit could reach. As it soared higher, Ratkit noticed something behind it.

"Dawnkit! Look!"

"Look at what?"

Ratkit jabbed his tiny white paw at a structure behind the distant trees.

"It's the mountain! You did it! Let's go!"

The two kits raced toward their tall, proud home. They should have been relieved, but Ratkit just hoped Plumpoppy wasn't too angry with him for getting lost.

The two of them ran and ran, sending white dust behind them, gasping and panting. Their sprint turned to a steady run, which turned to a trot, until they walked as slow at a tortoise.

"Uh...maybe we...should take a break," panted Dawnkit. They soon came to a new stream, the clear water as cold as the ice that lined it. Dawnkit and Ratkit nodded to one another. Without a word, they plunged their tired muzzles into the icy water, lapping their thirstiness away. After they both had their refreshing fill, they took a break and curled up beside the stream. Soreness crept through their limbs.

"I hope we're close, my paws hurt," Ratkit mewed. But there was no use mewing like a newborn now. There was no queen to lick his troubles away. But the pain didn't contain Dawnkit.

Being the natural islander she was, Dawnkit to her fours like an adult cat. She carefully placed one foot over the other. Her weight was completely balanced. She made no sound as she crept across the crunchy snow. As stealthy as a raccoon, Dawnkit made her way to the stream. Her dark pelt blended in with objects behind her.

And, just before she made a beautiful pounce to conclude her beautiful stalk, a bundle of hazel ginger fur crashed into Dawnkit. Started, she flipped herself over and dashed out from underneath the she-cat's paws. The hazel cat, Honeypaw, approached her scowling and with her fur standing up.

" _Dawnkit_! WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU ABOUT TO DO?" yowled Honeypaw.

 **If you read my first post in my other story, (Trek to Heaven) you would know that I will not be updating for a few weeks because my editor ( older sister) is leaving town for a while. I should have a chapter posted by the beginning of August, but we'll try to find time to work on another chapter, and hopefully get one posted sooner. I apologize to followers.**


	5. Mumblekit

**Chapter 4/ Mumblekit**

On the Cliffside, the world seemed so tiny, so beautiful, and so perfect.

The way the dark blue twilight sky, faint twinkling stars, and the golden-scarlet trace of the long-gone sun poured through the sky, shone down on the earth, like a dome.

Below the kingdom of lights, crisp amber forests and gushing rivers splashed about. Crickets began their songs and the breeze began to fade.

The earth was preparing for night, quieting down and calming the atmosphere.

Mumblekit sat on the cliff, at sunset, just as Honeypaw had a few nights before. He might as well have been a statue. He felt one with the earth, the breeze cooling his brown pelt, sitting as still as a stone itself.

Everything was perfect, so was peaceful.

"Well, if it isn't Lamekit!" yowled Squirrelkit, making Mumblekit jump. His little claws glazed the boulder as he regained his balance.

"Squirrelkit! I told you not to do that!" growled Mumblekit. Moonkit slid forward, like a snake.

"Sorry Mouse-brain, but you look like an idiot, pretending to be paralyzed mouse," mewed Moonkit coolly.

"I am not!"

"Oh yeah?" jeered Squirrelkit, "Then you're like a rock. You're certainly more like a rock than a cat."

"That's not true! I'm just as much as a cat as you!" Mumblekit.

"Oh yeah? You're a big strong cat? Then dodge THIS!" yowled Moonkit as he swung an un-sheathed paw at him.

Swiftly, Mumblekit ducked from the blow and pounced at his brother, square into his chest. With a thud, Moonkit tumbled backward onto the ground, winded. He quickly regained his paws and glared at his brother.

"You want to fight like bears? Fine." With a flick of his silver tail, Moonkit charged into Mumblekit's fluffy pelt. The two scuffled fiercely, bits of downy fur scattering everywhere. Suddenly, a firm, black paw shot down into Moonkit's tail, who squealed loudly. The three tom-kits looked up at a stern yellow stare.

"Well well well, kits fighting with their claws unsheathed. Goldenberry's going to be very interested about this."

Mumblekit's eyes widened, "Wait, please don't tell Goldenberry! She'll rip our ears off!"

"You already seem to be busy ripping each other's ears off," mewed Batflight coolly.

"But...but I didn't do anything! Moonkit started it!" yowled Mumblekit. Batflight snorted.

"Typical kit. Just blaming your littermates for your own, pathetic mouse-brained actions."

"But I really didn't-"

"Shut it, stupid kit! At least your brother isn't wasting his time jabbing a paw at his brother, while you babble about how _innocent_ you are," Batflight turned his back on them, "Goldenberry _will_ hear about this, little mouse-brains, especially about your ignorance," he hissed, jolting his stare at Mumblekit.

The lean black tom strode away. Then he stopped, then turned his head back to Mumblekit, "I'd be careful picking fights with council members, Mumblekit. I have just as much power as your over-protective mother, as well as the rest." He then turned his back and left for the nursery.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Moonkit smirked, "Smooth, Lamekit. A way to make an impression with the council member. I'll bet he'll be _begging_ to make you a full wind cat one day."

Squirrelkit laughed obnoxiously. Nose twitching with anger, Mumblekit sprinted away from his cruel littermates toward the thorn bramble bush. Why were his brothers so _mean?_ At least cats thought his brothers were cute, but _no one_ seemed to like him!

Eyes crusted his tears, he barreled through the prickly bushes into the gathering area. It was sun-high, and the platform was crowded with cats.

Foxpaw and his friends were fooling around, as usual.

Featherfoot, a tall fluffy cream tom, was taking out a band to scout out the dam.

Flowermist and the other she-cats were gossiping away.

Then, in the corner, near the entrance to the gathering chamber, Mumblekit spotted Doegaze and Otterstreak reprimanding Dawnkit and Ratkit.

Interested, Mumblekit crept into earshot. When he got close enough, he shoved his ears forward so he could hear.

"... _how_ could you be so mouse-brained? Dawnkit, I let you leave the mountain, I _trust_ you, and then you almost get you and poor Ratkit drowned!" hissed Doegaze.

"I _told_ you, mom! We didn't almost drown! I was just going to catch a fish!" Dawnkit protested.

Several islanders turned to the commotion.

 _"I. Don't. Care."_ Snarled the dark tortoiseshell, green eyes blazing with anger, "Frankly, I'm not mad at Ratkit. Neither is Plumpoppy," at this, Mumblekit snorted. He, like everyone else, knew that Plumpoppy wouldn't be mad at her precious son, no matter who's fault it was. But Doegaze wasn't finished with her daughter "There are a thousand ways for a kit to die in the forest, and a thousand more when the kit thinks she can parade around the island whenever she feels like it!"

Otterstreak glanced at Doegaze, eyes with sympathy, "Ok, Doegaze, I think these kits understand what they've done was wrong."

Doegaze stared at the ginger council cat for a moment, then angrily turned around and stormed to her den, kicking dust as her paws hit the ground. As soon as she was out of sight, Dawnkit rolled her eyes and turned away. The islanders went back to their business.

Like always, Mumblekit couldn't help but notice the way Dawnkit's red-amber fur glowed in the sunlight against the snow. The way her ears flicked at the chilling breeze of maple and oak. She was beautiful.

Swift as a snake, Mumblekit scampered from underneath the bush over to Dawnkit.

 _Finally,_ he thought, _I can talk to her without my stupid brothers around._

Bits of snow clumping in his tabby fur, he struggled to come up with the right way to say hello.

 _I'm thinking too much,_ he thought. Oh, he must look like a clumsy little kit right now. But then again, he was.

"So, uh," stuttered Mumblekit, "What kinds of trouble did you get yourself into this time?"

Dawnkit sighed heavily, thinking of the frustration with her mother.

"All I did was show Ratkit some stupid stream, and then Honeypaw came in screaming how I almost killed myself. And then she had to go ahead and tell _everyone_ that I almost drowned!"

Mumblekit tensed up. What did _he_ know about she-kit problems? Especially since she was nearly 5 moons, while he was only 2.

"Well, you did wander from the patrol, and that was kind of mouse-brained..."

Dawnkit turned on him, "What do _you_ know? You weren't even there!" with that, she swiped him across the face with her tail as she turned away and bounded towards the nursery dens.

"She's just mad," piped up Ratkit, whom Mumblekit had forgotten was there, "She doesn't hate you."

Ratkit looked up at the two-moon old kit with that expressionless rat-like stare. They locked eyes for a second. It disturbed Mumblekit when the small kitten acted like an elder. His stare was so unnerving...

"Mumblekit!" yowled Goldenberry, "Come here! Get away from him!"

Giving Ratkit one last glance, he trailed away, following his mother's voice to his den. Mumblekit knew Goldenberry didn't like Ratkit, but why? Oh, Ratkit. What did he know? He was hardly even 3-quarter-moons old. Yet he seemed so wise, with such a serious face.

So Mumblekit slumped home. To his family. Where Goldenberry would rant about every single detail of her life. Where Moonkit and Squirrelkit would torture him, using every bit of his identity as a weapon against him. And where Dawnkit could glare at him for hardly any reason.

But, the sun would still rise tomorrow. As the wind cooled for the evening, Mumblekit shrugged it off, telling himself he was lucky to have a family or a den to come home to. But no matter how many times he told himself, he felt emptiness in his soul.

It was called loneliness.


	6. Brothers

**Chapter 5/ My Friend**

It was a lazy, mild afternoon.

Until now, every morning had brought more cold, frost and bitterness. But today was quite warm. The Islanders took it as a blessing to feel warm, humble breezes before a long winter. The atmosphere was comfortingly relaxed.

The hunters and queens shared tongues, gossiped and spoke freely on friendly terms, all feeling care-free. The patrols and bands were optimistic. Even the stern Batflight couldn't help but feel the spirit, after his band discovered a water hollow crawling with prey. This made even the sternest more cheerful. A sun-high feast had followed the fortunate discovery.

The lovely atmosphere had mostly rubbed off on the apprentices. They kicked back, taking it easy, lounging around and laughing. Foxpaw and Hawkpaw, whom were brother and sister, were approaching the final stages of their training. Yet they never seemed to lose their precious, kit-like spirit. Younger cats admired it. However, most did not appreciate their laziness.

"I don't care how how pretty the scenery looks today," muttered Pouncefoot to Stealthmouse as the apprentices engaged in a game of moss ball, "Today may seem nice, but we might as well take advantage of the abundance of prey before the snow and frosts return.

Honeypaw, who overheard from her den, came out onto the sunny platform, "Don't you worry, Pounefoot. We won't be the only apprentices for long. Dawnkit is only days away from reaching six moons."

"That's true," meowed Stealthmouse happily, "Has she gotten over the stream incident? She hasn't been bouncing around the mountain like she usually is.

"She-kits. They can be such drama-queens," purred Pouncefoot. Honeypaw bristled.

"She was scared! Any kit would've acted that way. If you were five moons old, I'd like to see how you would reacted to almost falling to your death!"

Stealthmouse narrowed her eyes. Honeypaw caught her gaze, "Sorry."

Stealthmouse gazed at her warmly, "Honeypaw..."

"Honeypaw!" called Hawkpaw, a black calico she-cat.

Honeypaw smiled weakly, "What's up?"

"Ok, I'm not supposed to tell you, but Snaketail says your initiation is going to be in the next couple of days!

Honeypaw brightened up a little, "Really? But it's so soon! You sure you heard him correct?"

"Yeah!" laughed Hawkpaw, "Unless he's talking about a different Honeypaw! Oh, I wish I were being initiated that soon!"

Foxpaw bounded over, Blackpaw trailing him, "Did you tell her?" he asked. Hawkpaw nodded.

"Yeah! I just did!"

"Congratulations, Honeypaw," the ginger tom meowed. For some reason, Honeypaw felt herself blushing.

"Yeah, well, it's not that big a deal."

"Not a big deal? You're not even four seasons old, and you're going to be a curer! That's great!"

Honeypaw found it hard to look the handsome tom in the eyes, "Thanks," she muttered, smiling humbly.

The awkward silence was interrupted when a pair of queens stomped their way onto the platform.

"Goldenberry! Goldenberry, you come back here right now!" yowled Plumpoppy.

The golden queen stopped and shoved her face into Plumpoppy's.

"What?" she hissed, green eyes blazing.

"You say something like that to my kit again _and I will claw your ears off_!" snarled Plumpoppy.

"It's not my fault. _You_ should've been making sure he didn't wander into my den!"

" _Your_ den? No excuse for calling a one-month old kit a _creature_!"

The four apprentices watched with interest.

Plumpoppy flicked her brown-splotched tail wildly, "I know why you moved your litter into the second wing of the nursery. You think my kit's a little monster!"

Both queens unsheathed their claws.

"He sure looks like one, with those beady little-"

She was interrupted as Plumpoppy shrieked, pouncing square on the golden she-cat's shoulders. It looked as if they were going to have a full-out fight!

Suddenly, Batflight and Featherfoot yowled, trying to pull the fighting queens apart. When they finally calmed them down, Plumpoppy looked as if she could kill.

Batflight tried to help them figure it out, "Ok, I know you want to rip each other to pieces right now, but you have to-"

"Stay. Out. Of this." Snarled Plumpoppy, threateningly. Batflight cowered nervously before the furious queens stormed away.

The apprentices waited for the scene to part before exploding into gossip.

"Did you _see that_? Goldenberry never saw it coming!"

"Did you see the look on her face?"

"Did you see the scratch?"

"Forget that, have you ever seen Plumpoppy so angry before?"

"Never!" exclaimed Foxpaw.

"Well, Goldenberry did deserve it," muttered Hawkpaw, "Calling poor Ratkit a creature, and all,"

"Agreed," muttered Blackpaw, "I just thought it was impossible to make Batflight cower!"

But Honeypaw just wondered for a second. She didn't find it amusing. Goldenberry and Plumpoppy had been good friends for years. Why were they suddenly enemies? What would Goldenberry's litter think? Or Ratkit?

She found herself wandering to the nursery, into the nursing den. There, she found Ratkit splayed across his nest, groaning every few minutes. Unlike his fellow islanders, the rare warm breezes didn't lighten Ratkit's spirits. He like the snow and cold.

"How long have you been laying around in here?" asked Honeypaw, curiously swaying her tail, "You ought to go out and play with the other kits, enjoy the nice weather."

Ratkit rolled over awkwardly, looking up at Honeypaw, with his fur in all directions.

"I don't want to. Moonkit's too bossy, Squirrelkit's too loud, and Mumblekit hardly does anything."

"What about Dawnkit?"

"She's practically and apprentice. She doesn't want to play with me," the little tom flexed his limbs, shaking bits of moss from his scruff.

"Ok, then. Well, maybe, do you want me to show you the medicine storage den? It beats doing nothing all day."

"I agree," mewed a deeper voice from behind them. Plumpoppy strolled in, as if the fight had never happened, "It's important to know your herbs, even if don't become a curer."

As the brown and white tortie queen walked into her den, Honeypaw heard her mutter under her breath, " _Anything but playing with Goldenberry's brood."_

As Honeypaw lead Ratkit out of the nursing den, she shot a knowing glance at the queen, then hurried out.

Out in the open of the warm air, Ratkit seemed to be the only one scowling and slouching; his gray and ginger fur was ungroomed. This earned him a lot of curious stares from the islanders. When the tom-kit looked up nervously, Honeypaw simply said, "Ignore them."

Across the platform, they reached the curer den. The entrance appeared as it had before, a slate frame sticking out of the side of the mountain, a few cats-lengths above the main platform.

"After you," muttered Honeypaw, when they came to the slate. It formed a smaller stairway that lead straight to the entrance.

Ratkit curiously hopped up the stairs, sniffing. At the top, he followed Honeypaw into the medicine den. They walked in darkness for a moment, then beheld a glowing cavern, filled with herbs.

Ratkit's yellow-green eyes brightened as he mewed, "Whoa."

To him, it was amazing. Piles and shelves of neatly stacked herbs took up much of the space. In one corner, moist rows of flowers and petals gleamed. In another, bowls of neatly sorted seeds sat. There were all sorts of spots for stems, roots, and leaves. The cavern was lit with bits of glowing minerals that lined the cavern.

At the back of the cavern, long, silky woven veils of cobweb hung from the ceiling.

"You like it?" asked Honeypaw, "I remember coming in here for the first time. I was younger than you, actually."

Ratkit gazed up with confusion, "Why aren't cats allowed in here?"

"Well, this cavern is kind of sacred, actually. At least, to us it is. We allow kits in here occasionally, to see if the path they're taking will be that of medicine," explained Honeypaw. Even she seemed to be in wonder of the beautiful cavern.

Honeypaw looked back at the kit, "Go ahead. Look around. Snaketail won't mind. Probably."

With that, he trotted from one end of the cavern to the other, sniffing all the different plants.

"What are these?"

"Dandelion leaves. They reduce pain."

"And those?"

"Snakeberries. They have several uses, but are toxic, so don't—"

"What's this?"

"Yarrow. Makes cats sick if they're poisoned."

"And this?"

"Pumpkin seeds."

"What are they for?"

"They're actually quite tasty, you can have one if you want."

"Thanks!" meowed Ratkit as he snatched on up and began to chew on it.

Suddenly, in the corner, a larger bowl of black seeds tipped over and crashed, the edges shattered and poppy seeds spilled everywhere.

Honeypaw gasped in surprise.

"What the—"

On the other side of the shattered bowl, a certain brown tabby tom-kit sat, wide-eyed. He crouched down and folded his ears back in embarrassment.

"Mumblekit! What the heck are you doing here?" scolded Honeypaw.

Mumblekit backed away, "I...I'm sorry! I didn't mean too—" backing up, he knocked over another bowl filled with brown seeds.

"Great. It'll take forever to sort them again," huffed Honeypaw. Mumblekit's eyes grew wider.

"Sorry! I can help you sort them..." he began to tread through the seeds.

"STOP!" yelled Honeypaw just before he tipped over a bowl of honey.

"What are you even doing here?" she asked.

"Um, well, I uh, well," his fur grew hot, "I'm so sorry. I just wanted to, you know, look around."

"You sure this has nothing to do with your brothers?" pressed Honeypaw.

Mumblekit hesitated, then sighed, "Squirrelkit dared me to put a daddy-long leg in Batflight's nest."

"Did you?"

"No. He and Moonkit wouldn't stop teasing me, so I hid in here."

Ratkit and Honeypaw exchanged glances, then back at Mumblekit.

"Well, Mumblekit, you shouldn't have come in here without permission,"

Mumblekit nodded

"And you should be more careful,"

Mumblekit stared at his paws.

"And I _should_ tell Snaketail about this,"

Mumblekit looked at the hazel she-cat desperately.

"But, I guess, if you help me weave some cobwebs while I clean this up, maybe I can forget about it."

Mumblekit looked at her with surprise, "Really? Seriously? Thank you!"

Honeypaw smiled, "Yes, well, just try not to knock anything else over."

"Yes! I'll be careful! I promise!" with that, the tabby scurried to the back of the cavern, being slightly more careful not to mess up anything. Honeypaw looked back at Ratkit.

"Well, I have to clean this up. You can explore, or help Mumblekit if you want."

"Ok," sighed Ratkit, disappointed. He slowly walked to the back of the cavern where Mumblekit was desperately trying to handle fresh cobwebs. He felt kind of bad for him, he wasn't trying to do anything wrong.

Ratkit found himself approaching Mumblekit.

"You should stretch it out, first," muttered Ratkit.

Mumblekit stared at him.

"Stretch it out, without breaking it," Ratkit grabbed and pawful of web to demonstrate, "And then it easier to cross with another," he laid the thin strands of web on top of the other, making a decent piece of woven cobweb.

Hesitantly, Mumblekit did the same, ignoring the web getting stuck in his brown fur.

After successfully weaving a piece, he glanced at Ratkit thankfully, "Thanks."

The two wove, silently at first.

"Mumblekit?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Why don't you play with your brothers a lot?"

Mumblekit paused, "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," mumbled Ratkit, "I always wish I had littermates to play with. But you don't seem to like yours,"

"Well, my brothers can be very rough," explained Mumblekit, staring at his cobweb, "And they're not too nice to me. You're lucky, no one's always making fun of you, or pushing you around."

"I wouldn't say that. Goldenberry and Batflight seem to think I'm, well, a rat."

Mumblekit sighed, "Don't let my mother bother you. Trust me, I know, all Goldenberry likes to do it complain, and gossip, and more gossip. She thinks I'm too clumsy, and she's right. Seriously Ratkit, who needs littermates when you have such a good mom like Plumpoppy?"

Ratkit felt his heart warm with pride when he thought of his mother. He didn't realize until now how protective she was.

Feeling bored, Ratkit let his mind wander around the cavern. It came to rest on a pile of yellow and white flowers..

"Hey Mumblekit, do you any of these herbs?"

"A few," he muttered.

"Do you know what they use those daisies for?" asked Ratkit, points at the stack of yellow and white flowers.

"Those aren't daisies. They're chamomile. They give you strength."

Ratkit stared at him, "What about those leaves?" he asked, whisking his tail at another.

Mumblekit squinted at them, "Those are tail reeds. They help cure this disease where you get a fever, rashes, and some fur loss. I forget what it's called," Mumblekit went back to weaving.

"How do you know that?" asked Ratkit, bewildered.

"I listen to Witherfoot sometimes. He's good at explaining things."

"But you seem to understand so well!"

"So?"

"So, if you're so sure you won't be a good hunter or fighter, why don't you ask Witherfoot to teach you what he knows?"

Mumblekit looked up, "That's not a bad idea. You're right, I could learn one or two thing from him...Oh! I see what you're saying! You think I should be a curer!"

Ratkit nodded.

"Why didn't I think of that? Thank you, Ratkit. That's such a good idea!"

"Hey Mumblekit," mewed Ratkit, "You may not like having brothers, but I'd like to think of you as a big brother."

Mumblekit smiled, "Yeah, brothers."

"Brothers?"

"Brothers."


	7. New Heights, New Heroics

**Chapter 6/Heights, Heroics**

Just as the islanders were getting used to the rare warm weather, the snows returned.

It wasn't like before, with crisp frosty mornings, and neat thin layers of snow. One day, cats are sunning on the rocky shores. The next, the ground is frozen solid and the rivers are freezing up. Blistering cold hit the island with no warning. Hardly anyone wanted to leave their dens because of the bitter air. But that was just the beginning. Only days after the extreme temperature drop, a snowstorm hit. Not just breezes, gusts of snow and ice blew in all directions. Doegaze and some of the other council members even cautioned that no one leave the mountain for a few days. Several nights of hunger followed. Finally, when the storm had passed, the patrols could run again, but most decided the snowstorm meant the beginning of a long leaf-bare was on its way.

Ratkit seemed to be the only one that took pleasure of snowy days. He would bounce in it happily, and take wonder in its beauty. Most of the queens were just happy he was learning to play like a normal kit.

It was a white, snowy day as usual. Patrols ran and words were shared.

Ratkit thought it was incredible. Everything as far as he could see was either white or blue, and seemed to be made of shining crystals.

The little tom sat near the platform edge, watching the icy world below. Behind him he could hear life as usual was continuing.

"Batflight! We're patrolling the north side of the island again. Coppertail says he can smell swamp cat scent on our land."

"Is that so? Take your time, Stealthmouse. If you happen to come across one those algae-furred excuses for cats, show them who owns what."

"You got it, Batflight."

Ratkit smiled. He loved the diversity between his fellow islanders. Coppertail was fun and charismatic. Stealthmouse was daring and courageous. Batflight was stern, but a good leader.

"Hey, Honeypaw! Witherfoot and I are collecting winterberries. Watch over the den, will you?"

"Fine, Snaketail," called back Honeypaw, a tinge of annoyance in her call.

Then it hit Ratkit. He hadn't talked to Dawnkit in a while. What was she doing? Why hasn't she been acting like her old self? Why wasn't she leaving her den as much?

With a graceful leap, Ratkit landed softly on the crunchy snow and trotted the bramble tunnel.

Once he crawled through it, he rounded the waterfall and entered the "older kits" den. Unlike the nursing den, this one was not lined with the sweet scent of milk. Like most of the dens, the den was a cave. The walls and floor curved with the natural shape of the rock. However, bushes and shrubs grew on the walls and around the entrance, giving it a different but cozy feeling.

Doegaze was nowhere to be seen, but Dawnkit was curled into a scarlet bundle of fur. She seemed asleep, other than her ears being pricked.

When she lifted her head, her red-ginger fur was flattened at weird angles, like she had been lying there all night. Her normally bright eyes were dull, and she looked exhausted.

Dawnkit didn't look too thrilled when Ratkit paced in, "What do you want?" he mumbled softly, lifting her head.

"I...I just haven't hung out with you in a while, that's all," mewed Ratkit.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I've been sick for a quarter-moon."

"Oh. I didn't know," Ratkit wondered why no one bothered to tell him.

"Doegaze seems convinced _for sure_ that it's because we left the mountain on the day of your initiation. Even though that was nearly a moon ago."

"How are you feeling?"

"A lot better than normal, actually," explained Dawnkit, "But Doegaze and Witherfoot _insist_ that I stay in my nest 24/7. All I want is some fresh air."

Ratkit glanced at the exit, "Well, Witherfoot and Snaketail just left, and your mom just went on a patrol. I'm sure no one would mind if you came outside for a little bit."

Eagerly, Dawnkit climbed from her nest. She was a little shaky at first from laying in her nest for so long, but quickly caught up to Ratkit outside.

Both kits shivered as they felt the sudden chilly air.

"It is FREEZING out here," meowed Dawnkit through clenched teeth. Ratkit bounded to bramble tunnel.

"What do you want to do? Go to the elder cave? Play at the steepledge?"

As Dawnkit opened her mouth to answer, Coppertail's tan-cream head appeared in the bramble entrance.

"Hey, kits," he mewed. Mumblekit and his brothers trailed the bulky tom, "Your mothers are all out, so they asked me to keep an eye on you."

Dawnkit rolled her eyes. She thought she didn't need to be babysat. She was almost an apprentice.

"Let's play battle!" exclaimed Moonkit, readying to pounce on Squirrelkit.

"That sounds like fun," mewed Coppertail, "But right now, how would you like me to show you something cool?"

Ratkit tipped his head. There always seemed to be something new and cool to see.

"Well? What is it?"

"Where is it?"

"Tell us what it is!" begged the kits.

"Alright, alright. I'll show you. But you have to follow me!"

With that, all five kits trailed after Coppertail across the gathering platform. Fewer cats were sharing tongues, probably because of the cold.

Now the snow was really starting to come down. Anything over the edge of the ledge seemed like a gray abyss. Ratkit and Squirrelkit bounced to catch the drifting snowflakes. They mewed with joy as snowflakes landed in their fur and on their tongues.

In the corner between the bramble tunnel and the curer den, a small crack created an opening in the wall. Inside was a tunnel.

"Cool! A tunnel!" exclaimed Squirrelkit, hopping inside.

Moonkit glanced at Mumblekit, "Oh yes. I'm sure there's all kind of cool stuff inside. Like spiders, and snakes, and coons..."

"Stop it, Moonkit!" whined Mumblekit

"No need to worry kits," meowed Coppertail assumingly, "I'd rip any snake, spider, or coon that tries to lay a claw on you to pieces."

Ratkit, as usual, strayed behind the pack, having trouble seeing in the dark. Coppertail noticed.

"Hey, Ratkit. Want a ride?"

"Sure!" mewed Ratkit as he hesitantly climbed onto the muscular tom' back.

Soon, the tunnel became a trail. An uphill trail.

Huffing and puffing, Coppertail led the kits further and further up the trail. Even as the path became steeper, Squirrelkit was bouncing ahead. Covered with snow, he glanced back at the dawdling cats, bushy tail high in the air.

"Come on! It's probably not that far! I think!"

"Don't...don't worry kits," puffed Coppertail, "It's...not far."

After a few more minutes of trudging up a snowy trail, they came a small, grassy plain, with a single tree lazily hanging near the edge.

Dawnkit looked up at Coppertail questioningly, "So? What's the big surprise?"

"Look," said Coppertail simply. And they did.

And the sight was amazing.

Not only did they have a full view of the entire, vast island. They could see miles and miles beyond.

"I didn't even know there _was_ anything that went that far," breathed Ratkit, in awe.

Squirrelkit nodded in agreement.

Not only was the vast view breath-taking to the kits. They could see millions, upon millions of snowflakes dancing down to the world.

"I've never seen so much snow in my life! How many snowflakes do you think there are?" piped up Mumblekit, bits of snow clinging to his brown tabby fur.

Moonkit stood a little taller, "Ten thousand eight hundred and thirty-two. I'm sure of it. No question."

"Of course, you always have to be right," mewed Dawnkit playfully.

"This, is the top of the mountain," explained Coppertail, "The very greatest and highest—"

He was interrupted by a _CRAW!_

Dawnkit looked up nervously, only to spot a black winged-shape circling them. Coppertail's eyes filled with panic.

"Quick! Into the bushes!" he yowled franticly, grabbing Ratkit and shoving the others to cover. Through the snow he panicked, rounding up the kits.

"Hurry! Hide, kits! HIDE!"

Mumblekit squealed with terror as the cream tom grabbed him with the scruff and tossed him to safety. Just as he thought he had all of them safe, he turned to see Squirrelkit sprinting back, with something in his mouth!

"Squirrelkit!" cried his brothers.

Just as quickly as the deadly bird appeared, it swooped down and attempted to snatch him! Squirrelkit tried to move out of the way, but not fast enough. Its talons brutally clutched the kit's pelt, and tired to lift off.

" _Squirrelkit!"_ screamed Moonkit desperately, watching Squirrelkit flailing and hissing for his life.

Suddenly, a golden shape pounced and crashed into the carnivorous bird, knocking the wind out of it. It immediately dropped the helpless kit, who fell limply into the snow.

The bird lashed out at Coppertail, who too, dropped from its grip. Not wasting a second, the tom stood protectively over the bleeding bundle fur, a savage talon-mark marred across his face.

As soon as the injured bird was out of sight, Coppertail turned to Squirrelkit's aid.

"Squirrelkit! Please be ok! _Please_ don't be dead!" cried Moonkit, trying to nudge his brother awake.

Coppertail shook his scarred head, "It's too late, Moonkit. He's gone."

"No he's not!" yowled Dawnkit, pressing an ear to his chest, "His heart's still beating! It's faint, but he's alive!"

Coppertail's eyes widened, then quickly scooped the dying kit up and pressed him to his chest, already taking off down the trail.

"Wait!" cried the other kits, barely keeping up with them. Ratkit desperately tried to keep up with the other kits, but was smaller and slower, and the snow sticking to his fur was slowing him down. He hated the dark. But when he came the tunnel, he screwed his face and sprinted inside, ignoring the fear of running alone in the dark.

When he finally made it to the platform, everyone was crowded around Squirrelkit, still unconscious.

"What happened?!"

"We saw the kestrel, and heard screaming!"

"Get Snaketail! Or Witherfoot!"

"They're not here!"

"My baby!" screeched Goldenberry from the bramble tunnel, tumbling through the crowd, "Move!" She hovered over her second-born. She looked desperately at the islanders, "Do something! ANYTHING!"

Pouncefoot looked baffled. Streakmist exchanged glances with other cats, willing someone to do something. Coppertail was off the side, looking as guilty as ever.

"Out of the way!" yowled Honeypaw, as she raced from the slate den to the kit. Under her chin were bundles of herbs, and pawfuls of cobwebs.

Obediently, the islanders made way for the apprentice. Ignoring the crowd, she immediately pressed the woven cobwebs against his flank and got to work. As she attempted to save the kit's life, the clearing became quiet enough to hear a leaf drop.

Goldenberry's terrified face of fear turned to anger. She stomped up to Coppertail, rage bubbling in her eyes, "You—you _mouse-brained_ fool! You piece of _fox dung_! My son's going to die and it's _all your fault!_ "

Coppertail was appalled, "I...I didn't..."

Suddenly, a faint kit-cough could be heard.

"Squirrelkit? Squirrelkit, can you hear me?" sobbed Moonkit.

"Shhh, it's ok, Moonkit. He's too hurt to speak right now," meowed Honeypaw. She scanned the clowder, "Pouncefoot! Go see if you can find Snaketail!"

Startled, the long-legged tom took off into the lichen tunnel.

Honeypaw continued to work, pressing more cobwebs, chewing poultices, and wrapping leaves around his wounds.

Owlheart bounded from the slate den with more cobwebs. Everyone froze as Honeypaw tensed, and stopped working.

"Is...is he all right?" mewed Goldenberry weakly.

After a brief pause Honeypaw lifted her head, "He's going to be all right."

The islanders all sighed with relief. Moonkit fainted in Goldenberry's paws.

Almost as if on cue, Pouncefoot burst onto the platform with Snaketail and Witherfoot behind him.

"Honeypaw!" gasped Witherfoot, "Pouncefoot said Squirrelkit was injured! Where is he?"

Honeypaw beckoned the curers to the unconscious kit, who leapt over to examine him. Snaketail's eyes widened with surprise, "Honeypaw, did you tend to him all by yourself?" the she-cat nodded, "That's amazing. Truly amazing."

"It is?" stuttered Honeypaw.

"You did everything right. You covered his wounds completely; you used comfrey root, goldenrod, catchgrass for the wound, and bluereed for the impact, I see. Witherfoot, move him to the nursing wing, and use horsetail," instructed Snaketail.

"When he wakes I'll give him poppy seeds!" called Witherfoot, as he carried the kit in an herb sling.

Snaketail turned to the pale amber she-cat, "Honeypaw, I have to say, I'm very impressed. I was going to give you exams to test your knowledge of medicine, and of handling situations like this. But you seem to know exactly what you're doing." Honeypaw licked her chest fur in humility.

"Yeah!" called out Dawnkit, "She did it all by herself! And she knew exactly what to do! I would've been terrified under that kind of pressure!"

The islanders yowled out their agreement.

"Well then," meowed Snaketail, "I guess that means there's only one thing left to do now."

Knowing what that meant, the council members, Owlheart, Otterstreak, Featherfoot, Batflight, and Doegaze made their way to the meeting cave. The islanders followed them, whispering excitedly.

"To the meeting cave!" yowled Dawnkit.

Once everyone was settled in the cave, Batflight cleared his throat, "Today, we, as a community, gather in the name of Honeypaw. As a kit, you were initiated as Honeykit. An apprentice, Honeypaw. But now, we, the council, herby initiate you as a curer. Snaketail?"

The ginger tom stepped forward, "She may be young, but has more than proved herself to be worthy as a curer. I look forward to many moons working beside you. Honeypaw, do you promise to dedicate your intentions, talent, and life to the islanders?"

"I do," the she-cat meowed firmly.

"For your humility and kindness, I name her Honeywhisker."

The cave filled with yowls and cheers, "Honeywhisker! Honeywhisker! Honeywhisker! Honeywhisker! Honeywhisker!" with Hawkpaw and Foxpaw's yowls ringing out above the others.

 **Thanks for viewing! Be sure to leave a review, positives and/or negatives. I like compliments, but I also appreciate feedback to know how I can improve my story. Thanks!**


	8. Real Battles

**I changed this story's rating from K+ to Teen, for some violent and graphic scenes, just a warning.**

 **Chapter 7/Real Battles**

It was another early, snowy morning on the island. The morning was dim, the twilight sky dark blue.

It had been a whole moon since Honeywhisker became a curer. Everyone agreed that the hazel she-cat was indeed growing to be quite fine in the field of medicine. Her gift for healing only flourished after the ceremony.

Although in shock for a few days, Squirrelkit recovered and cleared Coppertail's name, to his family's relief. Honeywhisker remembered tending to him with Witherfoot when he first awoke from his shock. He'd simply asked whether he was dead, and fallen asleep. Even after the ash-colored kit recovered, scars still shown on his flank and abdomen, where the falcon had grabbed him. Goldenberry was horrified her kit would be scarred for life, but the kits seemed to think it was cool he had his first battle scar.

Dawnkit soon became Dawnpaw, apprenticed to Otterstreak. Ratkit and the others were happy for her, but would miss having her in the queen caves.

Even as the island grew colder and frostier by the day, hope was lined everywhere. Streakmist moved into the nursing den, much to Stealthmouse's delight.

Ratkit was instructed to help carry bustleweed and clovers into the den The tabby dropped the weeded bedding once he reached the waterfall, "Mom? Why do I have to help? Dawnpaw was going to show us the otter stones, and I'll be stuck here," whined Ratkit.

Inside, Plumpoppy and Streakmist were busy weaving a nest using firm reeds and flexible sticks.

"The otter stones will have to wait. Streakmist's kits could come any day," meowed Plumpoppy, a loose reed hanging from her jaws, "Besides, carrying a few chinfuls of bedding isn't the end of the world."

Next to her, the colorful torbie smiled weakly. Streakmist wasn't terribly optimistic about her pregnancy. Even though they were to be Coppertail's kits.

Sighing, Ratkit scooped up the weeds and plopped it next to his mother.  
"Good. Now go fetch the other five mouthfuls. I left them by the lichen tunnel."

Ratkit softly growled with frustration as he slumped out of the cave.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Streakmist turned to her friend, "Plumpoppy, you don't have to have him do work for me. He's only two moons old. You ought to let him run along with his friends."

"He's fine. He'll be starting learning how to hunt soon. It's good for him to learn minor responsibilities."

Trudging onto the gathering platform, Ratkit noticed Honeywhisker talking with Blackpaw and Foxpaw. Now, her head was held up high and didn't show signs of shyness.

 _She seems older, more confident._ Ratkit thought to himself. Indeed, Honeywhisker was no longer the shy curer apprentice. It was hard for him to imagine the small, lithe Dawnpaw sharing a cavern with much older apprentices...

As Ratkit trotted across it to collect the weeds, another kit body-slammed him.

"Oof! Careful Squirrelkit! That hurt!" he squealed.

Squirrelkit arrogantly swept his tail, "Just practicing," he sneered.

"What happened to going to the otter stones?" meowed Ratkit.

Squirrelkit rolled his eyes, "Dawnpaw had to do some stupid patrol. We have nothing to do."

"Hey guys!" yowled Moonkit as he tumbled from the bramble tunnel, "Pouncefoot taught us some fighting moves yesterday! You wanna play battle? It'll be like a real life attack! A real battle!"

"Um," stuttered Ratkit, "I don't think I'd be any—"

"It's fine, Ratkit! I can be on your team," offered Mumblekit, staring at his brothers, "Go easy on him, ok?"

"Fine," grumbled the toms in agreement.

A brief moment of pause passed, before Moonkit hollered, "Attack!"

Moonkit pounced square into Mumblekit, and the two rolled into the dust. Squirrelkit took off after Ratkit, who darted into the bramble tunnel.

"Turn and fight me, you coward!" bellowed Squirrelkit mockingly. Ratkit sprinted forward to looking back. Ratkit listened to Squirrelkit's movements as he chased him.

 _He's slowing down, because he thinks I'm not going to face him. We'll see._

As soon as Squirrelkit showed signs of lacking, Ratkit pushed off where he landed in the opposite direction, straight at Squirrelkit!

The startled kit screeched to a halt, his claws scraping as he slid across the dusty ground. Ratkit pounced onto his opponent, temporarily pinning him down. But Squirrelkit, being larger and stronger, wrestled the small tom-kit until he had the upper-paw. They grunted and growled as they fought.

Finally, just as Squirrelkit raised a paw to strike him...

"The Swamp Cats are attacking!" a yowl called from the gathering platform.

Locking worried eyes for a second, the pair of kits took off into the bramble tunnel to see what the commotion was.

In the center of the clearing, Stealthmouse stood, half-winded, struggling to catch her breath.

Doegaze, Batflight, and Owlheart hurried from the council cave.

"Attacking? From where?" said Owlheart urgently.

"From the north side! The river froze last night, and a whole bunch of them crossed over and attacked our patrol!"

"Mouse-hearts!" cursed Batflight, "Plumpoppy, Pouncefoot, Coppertail, Snailpelt and Foxpaw! To me!" he yowled, already heading down the lichen tunnel.

"Snaketail, Honeywhisker!" called Doegaze, "Come too! The islanders will need you!" the cats poured out of the gathering area, yowling and hissing with anger.

The remaining cats on the gathering platform cried in approval of the brave islanders heading to fight for them.

At the edge of the bramble tunnel, the kits stood wide-eyed in wonder. Moonkit jabbed Squirrelkit with his paw, "Squirrelkit, can you believe it? Our dad Pouncefoot's going to fight in a real battle!"

Squirrelkit eyes brightened, "I know! I hope he shreds hundreds of swamp cats," Squirrelkit crouched into an attack stalk, "I wish we could watch it happen."

"But maybe we can!" piped Moonkit, "Most of the cats are heading into battle, the queens are busy in the nursing dens, no one will notice we're gone!"

Mumblekit's eyes grew as wide as pebbles, "Oh, oh no, you can't! Someone might see you! Or worse, a swamp cat."

"I think someone's a scardy-mouse!" hissed Squirrelkit, smirking at his brother.

"No guys, I'm serious. Pranking islanders is one thing. But this is straight-up dangerous!"

"Squirrelkit has looked death in the eye and survived before!" exclaimed Moonkit, pointing his tail at his brother, "If you can survive that, what's a couple of ragged old swamp cats? I'm going! And you can't stop me," meowed the silver tom, shoving his nose into Mumblekit's face.

Scowling, the brown kit turned and stomped into the bramble tunnel.

"Typical of him," mewed Squirrelkit coolly, before turning to Ratkit, "What about you? Are _you_ brave, little kit?"

Ratkit squirmed on the inside. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved in a battle. But he didn't want to seem like a scared little kit. He wanted to be a brave, noble islander.

"Yes," he mewed confidently, puffing out his chest, "I'm brave."

Sneaking away was easy for a sly pair of toms like Squirrelkit and Moonkit. Hawkpaw and Blackpaw were too distracted to notice, anyway.

Squirrelkit, being the good tracker he was, led the way, following the battle patrol's obvious scent.

Through the snow the kits bounded, running further and further from the mountain.

Finally, a rage-fueled yowl of a cat pierced the silence of the forest.

"We made it!" exclaimed Moonkit, trotting forward in a crouch. The three kits crept forward uphill, only the snowy undergrowth hiding them. Ratkit felt his heart pound as he crept closer to sight of war, preparing himself for the violence he was about to see.

As the three kits peeked over the hill, they immediately wished they hadn't. Islanders and matted swamp cats toppled over each other, snarling, hissing, rolling over fighting tooth and claw. The crushed snow they fought in was stained with blood, and the air was echoing with screams. Some with rage, others in pain.

Squirrelkit shivered, "Maybe we should..." Before he could finish, a big, gray, swirling-striped tom with icy blue eyes paused before he struck a cowering islander.

His gave flickered over to the bundle of kits.

"RUN!" yelped Moonkit, toppling over his scampering brother to escape. Ratkit had frozen in fear.

The dark gray tom's gaze narrowed. To Ratkit's dismay, the tom began to bundle over, his face as hard as stone. Ratkit looked away and cowered in the snow.

Just before the huge tom reached him, a pair of enraged howls rang behind him.

Horrified, Ratkit turned and watching a ginger tom wrestling the gray one on their hind legs. They landed in the snow with a crunchy thud, fur flying from where they wrestled.

"Snaketail..." muttered Ratkit, realizing the heroic ginger tom was the curer.

After violently being locked in battle with the gray tabby, Snaketail felt himself being overpowered. With a battle cry, the tabby sunk his jaws into the curer's throat.

"Snaketail!" shrieked Ratkit. Without thinking, he pounced form his hiding place onto tabby's matted pelt. The tom-kit's claws raked harmlessly against the swamp cat's pelt.

Ratkit gulped.

Leaving the bleeding, limp tom behind him, the huge tabby turned on him, his enormous muscles rippling.

Ratkit had never seen a swamp cat before, let alone up close. The tabby's frame was broad. His wiry, stiff fur was more matted than a bramble bush. He reeked of wet mud and grass, his breath like toads.

His eyes were the worst. Cold, icy, and unforgiving. The swamp cat's yellow teeth turned into a smirk, "Well, if it isn't a brave islander, fighting for his island. Adorable. Why don't you face me like a real tom?"

Ratkit's ears folded back in fear. Before he could decide what to do, a reddish-brown swamp cat's yowl rose above the battle cries,

"RETREAT!" he screamed.

With that, the muddy, matted swamp cats fled from the trees to frozen river, their wounds showing.

"Victory!" howled Batflight, his long call echoing through the forest. The other standing islanders joined his victory cry.

"NOOOO!" screamed a she-cat. Ratkit turned in dismay to see his mother, part of her ear torn off, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Mother, what's—"

The dappled queen bounded right past her kit, to the stiff body of Snaketail. Fresh blood splattered across his once-handsome ginger fur.

"Snaketail! _Snaketail!"_ she wailed. She nudged him with her injured muzzle, trying to wake him up.

Ratkit looked around him. The islanders were gaping with shock and sorrow. Batflight dipped his head in respect. Coppertail looked down in remorse. Honeywhisker sobbed into Stealthmouse's fur. And Plumpoppy sobbed even harder into Snaketail's dulling pelt.

As his mother's wails stopped, replaced with deep breaths, Ratkit trudged over, "Mom?" he mewed.

Lifting her head, Plumpoppy's face was wet with tears and blood. She gave a knowing look at her kit.

"Mom? He was your mate, wasn't he?" mewed Ratkit hesitantly.

Plumpoppy nodded, voice choking with emotion, "Y-yes. We got in a huge fight when I was expecting you. I didn't want you to be dragged into our fights, like some kits are. So we decided that you'd never know who your father was," finished Plumpoppy.

"I shouldn't have come," Ratkit's voice quivered, "He died saving my life!"

"Darling, don't blame—"

"No!" yowled Ratkit, backing up, eyes filling with tears, "He was my Dad! And I killed him! I'm the reason he's dead!" bawling, the kit raced from the bloody battlefield through the snow, back to the mountain.


	9. Foreseen Doom

**Chapter 8/ Foreseen Doom**

It was s clearing.

It was a beautiful clearing.

Wavy, blossom-laden grasses swayed with the gentle breeze, surrounding a peaceful pool.

Willow trees gracefully stood around it, their branches dancing with the song of the birds.

Golden, milky sunlight shown down on the clearing, bringing it into a gorgeous picture.

Out from the behind the trees, a pair of kits pranced after a fluttering butterfly. One was a cream tabby tom with black ears, the other, brown and white.

As they scampered after it, through the soothing grass they came closer and closer to the pool.

The brown and white one leapt onto a rock, its claws grazing the mossy surface. The kits wrestled on their hind legs for a moment, and then, the little brown-and-white kit stumbled, lost balance, and fell. The cream kit stood in fear. His hairs rose and gapped.

Just as quickly as she fell in, her weak struggles for breath disappeared beneath the surface. The cream kit screamed. The sun darkened. One last breath of air burst from the depths of the pool...

Honeywhisker awoke, lifting her head from her nest. Her green eyes were dull. Honeywhisker was used to these nightmares, now. Espeacially after her mentor, Snaketail died.

Ears flat and gaze still, the she-cat gazed from one corner of the room to the other. Dried herbs, broken sticks, and clumps of cobweb were scattered across her usually tidy den. She felt herself rest her head back into her bristly, hazel paws. She perked up when someone crept into the curer den.

Witherfoot strode in, the sunlight behind him shining on his sandy-colored fur. His golden eyes shown with pity.

"Morning, Honeywhisker. How are you doing?" he mewed, sadly.

Honeywhisker realized how tangled and matted her fur was, "Oh, I...well..."

"I just wanted to talk to you."

Honeywhisker shuffled around, getting into a sitting position, "Ok. About what?"

Witherfoot took a deep breath, "It's about Snaketail."

 _Of course. Here we go._ Thought Honeywhisker.

"He was your mentor, friend, father almost. You looked up to him. And now, he's dead. You have every right in the world to mourn, and be sad. But it's been nearly a moon since it happened. Surely you feel a little better by now?"

Honeywhisker glanced around at her messy den. Honestly, the she-cat didn't think she cloud ever recover from the trauma. Not long ago, her sister drowned. Now, Snaketail was gone, too. What was the point of anything? But Witherfoot was Snaketail's brother, and he seemed to have recovered. Although, curers were supposed to be trained to deal with loss.

But still, she faked a weak smile for Witherfoot, "I'm fine. Just been a little tired lately, with there only being two curers, and all."

Witherfoot beamed, like the way his fur blazed in the sun.

"I'm glad to hear that, Honeywhisker. You know, doing some actual curer responsibilities for once might help you feel better. Why don't you go check on Streakmist's kits? Their eyes have finally opened, they're probably named by now."

Honeywhisker slowly got up, stretching on her frail, shaky legs. She had been in her nest for a while.

"I'm feeling sore," he meowed.

"Here," soothed Witherfoot, pushing a pawful of small, sweet-smelling white flowers to her, "Whitebloom," he mewed, "You'll feel better quickly."

Almost as quickly as the hazel she-cat lapped them up, she felt strength return to her body.

"Thanks Witherfoot," she muttered as picked up a leaf-pouch from the corner.

Witherfoot's ears twitched in the entrance, "Take some honey with you. The kits love it."

Crawling through the bramble tunnel, Honeywhisker was feeling a little better, after being cramped in a den for a few days. The fresh winter air, and seeing the snow shimmer in the bright morning light was pleasant.

Everyone had pitied her, a lot since Snaketail's death. She wondered how the queens would greet her.

"Hi Honeywhisker!" yowled Moonkit, trailed by Squirrelkit through the snow, "Haven't seen you in a while!" he meowed. He sounded awfully cheery for...well, Moonkit.

"You just smell the honey, don't you?"

"Sure do! Can we have some?"

Sighing, Honeywhisker carefully placed the leaf pouch on the ground, careful not to spill.

Then, Squirrelkit tried to sniff some, causing the leaf pouch to tip over. Mouthfuls of herbs spilled everywhere.

"Sorry!" squeaked Squirrelkit, startled. With that, he took off to the nursery, Moonkit bounding after him.

"Get back here!" called Honeywhisker. But the pair of kits were out of sight.

 _Great._ She thought angrily, gathering the herbs scattered in the snow. Why did this always seem to happen?

"Oh, Honeywhisker? Do you need any help?" a mew sounded from the bramble tunnel. Honeywhisker turned to see Blackpaw, a jet-black tom with a plumy tail approaching.

"Oh, hi Blackpaw. You don't have to,"

Still, the apprentice swept up the herbs and seeds, where he then began to put them back into the pouch.

Honeywhisker smiled gratefully, "Thank you, Blackpaw. I appreciate it."

"No problem," he eyes skidded to the bowl of honey, "Where you carrying that all by yourself?"

She nodded.

"Here, let me help you," he meowed, clutching the bowl in his jaws. His light green eyes shone with friendliness.

All that could be heard as they walked to the nursing dens was the echoing winter breeze.

When they reached the entrance, Blackpaw placed the pouch at the entrance and turned the bramble tunnel.

"Thanks again, Blackpaw. Tom-kits can be so arrogant sometimes."

Blackpaw nodded, "Yeah. Well, I gotta go,"

"Bye. Thanks!" She mewed one last time as Blackpaw wandered to the bramble tunnel.

Honeywhisker carried the herbs into the nursing den, to get her first look at the kits since they were born. In her nest, she saw Streakmist curled comfortably around bundles of kit-fur.

"Morning, Streakmist. How are they?"

Streakmist licked a tortoiseshell kit, "Pretty good. They've been coughing a little bit, but otherwise great."

Honeywhisker sniffed them, "Well, let's take a look at them."

The young curer gently lifted a gray-tortie she-kit from the bundle, "She's beautiful," mewed Honeywhisker.

"Yes. We named her Palekit," replied Streakmist.

Honeywhisker performed the correct check-up methods on the baby cat.

"She seems perfect."

"I know. It's this one that's been coughing," Streakmist lifted a large, white, black-speckled she-kit.

Honeywhisker sniffed the kit.

"Coppertail says she'll be a fighter one day. Her name's Sootkit," said Streakmist.

Honeywhisker nodded, "Yep. It's ok, it's just a little cough. Harmless. Just keep her warm, give her some rosa petals, she'll be fine in a few days."

"Good," Streakmist mewed, nudging two of her kits, both toms, to Honeywhisker's paws. One was a dark golden-brown tabby, the other a silvery white tom. They mewed with protest

"Cedarkit and Frostkit," mewed Streakmist.

"Both healthy," said Honeywhisker.

"And there's one more, he's my second-born, but the smallest," queen picked up a little cream tom with black ears.

Honeywhisker staggered back, nearly passing, out when she realized the cream tom was the tom she'd seen in the dream! It was him. No doubt. Small, cream tabby tom, black ears, how was this possible? Honeywhisker had never seen the kit in real life before...

"What? What's wrong with him? Is he sick?" gasped Streakmist, voice lined with panic.

It took Honeywhisker a moment to snap out of her trance before she realized Streakmist staring at her, terrified, "Oh! It's...I'm sorry, I...I just...I had a flashback," she lied.

Streakmist tipped her head, then her eyes filled with sympathy, "Oh, Honeywhisker. It's about Snaketail again, isn't it?"

Honeywhisker nodded. She decided it was best not to tell the already stressed-out queen about the daunting dream. Not yet, at least. No point in scaring the poor she-cat before her kits could leave the nursing den.

Streakmist wrapped her tail around the kit, "I'm sorry, you just scared me. You're sure little Mousekit is ok?" she meowed.

Honeywhisker glanced at the torbie queen, "Yes. Is that his name? Mousekit? Yes, Mousekit's ok," she stared at the fuzzy cream kit, "I promise you, he'll be just fine, as long as I'm here."

Streakmist stared harder, perplexed at the serious tone of Honeywhisker's voice. But, she just took a deep breath.

"If you say so, Honeywhisker. Thanks for stopping by. I'll give them those petals," mewed Streakmist as Honeywhisker packed her herbs. The torbie looked up at the curer sadly.

"Say, Honeywhisker, do you mind talking to Ratkit? He's still confined to the nursery platform since...since it happened, but he's barely had the will to leave his nest," explained Streakmist.

Honeywhisker solemnly nodded. "I'll talk to him," she turned with the herb pouch in her jaws, to see the ash gray-and-ginger tom-kit curled in his nest. She strode over to him, hesitantly.

"Hey, Ratkit. How are you?" she asked semi-casually.

Ratkit looked up at her. His eyes were crusted with sleep. Face fur bent in weird angles,

"If you're here to tell me I should go outside, I'm not gonna. It was my fault. I killed someone. I broke the rules, I interfered, and he died because of it. He's dead. I'm a danger. I'm a murderer. I'm never going outside again."

Honeywhisker sighed, "Look, Ratkit. I know what it's like—"

"Honeywhisker!" Witherfoot's frantic yowl rang across gathering platform, like an alarm.

She glanced at Ratkit apologetically, "I have to go. But I'll tell you later!" exclaimed the amber she-cat as she began to run from the den.

Honeywhisker raced to the bramble tunnel. She bounded across the platform, to the curer den, dropping the herbs at her paws.

"What's wrong?" she pressed, ears pricked.

Witherfoot was standing over Snailpelt, the muscular ginger tom groaning in pain, eyes dull, coughing frequently.

"Honeywhisker, come quick! It's Snailpelt! He's got greencough!"

 **Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! Please review, if you can, and tell me what you think. Also, from now on, I'll try to update at least once a week. I apologize if you were annoyed by my inconsistency. I'll try to be better about that!**


	10. The Beasts

**Chapter 9/ Beast**

"Come on, Ratkit. Get up."

"No."

"Now."

"Why?"

"I said, _now,"_ she growled, softly.

Grumbling, Ratkit squirmed in his nest, before finally standing up.

Plumpoppy sat before him, smiling.

"Come on, son. You've been looking forward to this for more than a moon!" she exclaimed, dark blue eyes shining.

Ratkit glanced at his nest, and back to his mother, frustrated, "Fine. But not for too long."

He trudged out of his nest, twigs clinging to his fur. Onto the gathering platform, Ratkit trailed behind Plumpoppy. He ignored the conflicted stares from his fellow islanders, whom stared at him with sorrow and pity. Ratkit hurried to Plumpoppy's side, "Mom, why are they all looking at me like that?" The queen wrapped her tail around her kit. Her gentle voice sounded as soft as the breezes.

"Son, they're sad. Sure, because of Snaketail dying. But mourning kits are sad, too. They feel bad for you, Ratkit. They're sad because you're sad."

The walk down the tunnel was silent. Only their paws scraping the ground and their breathing could be heard.

A burst of sunlight made them squint. Sunlight reflected off the fresh snow, intensifying the glare.

"Where are we going?" asked Ratkit, paws crunching in the snow. Plumpoppy flicked her ears and scanned the area.

"You're three moons old, Ratkit. Traditionally, kits begin to learn to hunt, from one of their parents," she glanced at him warmly, "Today you'll begin."

Ratkit's eyes lit up, "Hunting?! Really? Right now?"

"Yes."

"Moonkit and Squirrelkit brag so much about how much they know about hunting. They said they can flip fish out of water, and snatch birds from their nests," exclaimed Ratkit.

Plumpoppy rolled her eyes.

"They're exaggerating," she leaned in, "Between you and me, I don't think Squirrelkit could catch a fish if it flopped right in front of him."

Ratkit giggled.

"But, anyway, lets start."

Ratkit stared at her expectantly.

"Do you know a hunting crouch?"

"No..."

"Of course, I know, I'll show you," Plumpoppy crouched down, her pale belly brushing the frost.

"...Like this."

Ratkit leaned down awkwardly, "Like this?"

Plumpoppy purred, "No. A hunting crouch isn't some new special position. Just lower your flanks in a natural way."

Ratkit tried again.

"Perfect! Just lower your chest a bit more, and keep your tail leveled above the ground."

Ratkit adjusted his stance.

"This is a common hunting crouch. The point of it is be able to stalk without making a sound. Try it."

On the first try, the clumsy kit dawdled through the snow. It took a couple of tries. But he soon managed to pull it together and crawl silently across the snow.

Plumpoppy beamed at her son, "Wow, you caught on a lot fast than I thought you would."

Ratkit smiled proudly.

She went on, "Yeah. I didn't think I'd be able to teach you it at all."

Ratkit cocked his head, "You didn't?"

"I didn't. I've always wanted to be a mother, but teaching, and hunting is something I'd always thought I'd have your father do," she sighed, staring into the snow.

"Well, I think you're a good teacher, mom," mewed Ratkit.

"You know, Ratkit, that means a lot coming—"

They froze.

The air became silent.

A cloud draped over the sun.

Ratkit's eyes widened and his hackles rose.

But Plumpoppy didn't jump. She turned, scanned the area, and crept forward, in the direction of the river. With a flick of her dappled tail, she beckoned Ratkit forward.

"Mom, what's going—"

"Shh!"

Her eyes brightened with wonder. She started towards the river, in a hunting crouch, moving briskly closer to the icy riverside. The river's roar grew louder.

Behind her, Ratkit trailed in her pawsteps. His paws pressed further in the snow.

Finally, Plumpoppy stopped at the riverbank, next to the frosty boulders, which lined the shoreline many miles down.

Even though ice formed on the edges of the river, surges of water still rippled downstream. The waves crashed against the boulders. This created massive, icy splashes.

"Come on!" exclaimed Plumpoppy, starting to climb the wet rocks.

Ratkit tried to climb, but kept slipping on his chin.

"Use your claws, son!" called Plumpoppy, looking down from the top of the boulder.

Ratkit huffed and puffed as he struggled, "Mom? What's so important up there that I have to climb this?"

"You just gotta get up here and see this."

"I don't get what's so—" Ratkit stopped, lifting his head to see it. Plumpoppy nudged him from behind so he could get his footing on the now frozen boulder.

In the distance, downriver, two great brown beasts stood in the middle of the river. They were enormous! Ten times as big as any of the islanders, even Coppertail! The bears trudged through the river, rippling their massive limbs. They shook their huge hairy from side to side, and lunged at fish with blood-curdling jaws. One of them swiftly grabbed a fish from the air. Another as a wave hit the boulders downriver.

"Oh my goodness, Mom, what the heck are those?" asked Ratkit, shaking.

"Those are bears. The older cats call them beasts. Pretty rare around here. Whatever you call them, they're quite a sight, aren't they?"

"They sure are."

Plumpoppy's face saddened, "Sadly, those two bears probably won't make it much longer."

Ratkit looked up at her, "Why not? They're so much bigger than us! And stronger, and faster,"

"That's true. They could crush a cat's spine with one nip. They're true beasts."

"Then why won't they make it?"

"Well, you see son, bears hibernate in the winter. They eat as much as they can find in the fall, so they can sleep through the moons of snow. Being big means more food."

"And?"

"I'm getting there. It's dangerous for a bear to be awake in winter, because now their precious supply of body fat is in danger of dwindling. Look how closely the fur clings to their bodies. Those bears are starving."

Now that she'd pointed it out, the limbs of the bears looked skinny, compared to their bodies. Desperation shown in their big dark eyes as they dove for fish.

"Even though they're strong and tough, they're even more vulnerable than you and me right now."

This was hard to believe, seeing how big they were. But maybe she was right. Ratkit suddenly felt lucky to have the mountain for protection, and his fellow islanders for care, loyalty and companionship. And mostly, that he had such a great mother.

"But we'll get through this winter, Ratkit," she touched her nose to his, "You'll get through the storm." Ratkit knew she was referring to the grief, and guilt. But how could he get over causing Snaketail to die?

Plumpoppy got to her fours, preparing to jump from the boulder, "Ready to go back?"

Ratkit nodded, slowly crawling down the rock.

As mother and son walked back, they felt great comfort in one another's company. Ratkit was just happy he had experienced at least one trip away from the mountain not ending in disaster.

That is, until he heard a rumbling in the distance.

"Hey mom, do you hear—"

And without any warning, the ground began to shake. It violently shook harder and harder, throwing the cats off their paws.

Around him, Ratkit heard and felt trees and rocks tumbling around him and the ground seemed to churn, and all he could hear was the roar of the earth.

"Mom! Mother! Mother!" he squealed. No response.

Plants, stones and logs were tossed like bits of prey on the island. Was the world ending?

And just as quickly as it started, the shaking ceased.

Anxious, Ratkit cautiously crawled out from underneath a log that was thrown on top of him—if it weren't for a dip in the ground, Ratkit would have been squashed.

Ratkit placed one paw in front of the other, glancing around him in fear. His whiskers quivered in the sunlight. The whole forest seemed to be uprooted, turned upside down. Vegetation, trees and rocks were scattered and thrown across the landscape, making the riverside look like a wasteland. He took a step, and winced. His front paw was injured.

"Mom!" screamed Ratkit, his mew echoing through the upturned forest. He scampered over some debris, tucking his paw under his belly.

"Mom! Mom, where are you?" Silence. Panic rose in his throat, growing heavy.

"Mom! Mom!"

The little tabby bounded over lumps of wood and through ripped shrubs. No sign of Plumpoppy.

"Plumpoppy!" he called once more. He waited, in a hushed, tense moment, ears pricked, listening for any trace of his mother.

No response.

Ratkit's eyes welled with tears, and whimpered quietly, alone in a torn forest. Plumpoppy couldn't be gone! No, it couldn't be happening, first Snaketail, now Plumpoppy? This couldn't be! Ratkit cried harder, tears coming down as fast as the river.

And then, in the distant mist, a twig snapped.

Ratkit jerked his head in the direction of the sound. Was it?

And into the sun, stepped a battered and dazed Plumpoppy.

"Mom!" yowled Ratkit, the sunlight shining off his shed tears. He scrambled to his paws and sprinted over to his mother, burying his face in her tangled fur. She wrapped herself around her kit.

"Oh my goodness, Ratkit! I was so scared! Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

Ratkit showed her his paw. Plumpoppy's eyes widened, "Oh my, I think your paw might be broken! We have to get you back to the mountain!"

Ratkit felt too dizzy to speak. He let Plumpoppy help him walk, ever so slowly back to the mountain. Ratkit's limping made the journey slower.

Soon, the tense silence was interrupted.

"Plumpoppy! Plumpoppy? Is that you?" a yowl rang through the trees.

"Hello? Who is it? Come quick!" called back Plumpoppy.

Soon, the muscular shape of Coppertail became visible in the trees, bounding towards them.

"Coppertail? Thank goodness! Come quick! Ratkit's hurt! Faster! Is there anyone with you? What—"

"Plumpoppy!" yowled Coppertail again, more urgently. He stopped in front of them, out of breath.

"What's wrong, Coppertail? Is everyone ok at the mountain?"

Coppertail struggled to catch his breath, "Plum...Plumpoppy, you have to come quick! The mountain is collapsing!"


	11. A Wistful Downfall

**Chapter 10/ Rumble in the Rift**

Honeywhisker peeked out from the curer den

The sunlit snowy platform was covered in islanders, chattering in a panic, eyes wide and tails twitching. What on earth had happened? The world seemed to shake, the mountain swaying violently for a moment, and now the platform was in chaos.

"The world in ending!"

"We're all going to die!"

"What will we do? What's happening?"

 _Come on, where's Owlheart?_ Thought Honeywhisker, _He always seems to know what to do when bad things happen._

Batflight and Featherfoot were struggling to calm the islanders, but was no success. Witherfoot had gone out alone to collect herbs, without anyone. Would he be ok?

Honeywhisker glanced back at Jaggedear, who was sicker than ever with greencough. To make matters worse, the sickness had spread to a tom named Snailpelt, and both of them were in the curer den. Neither improving.

Honeywhisker bundled outside, looking desperately for Witherfoot.

"Witherfoot!" she called, with no response. He was still in the forest.

The chaos continued on the platform, no one knowing what to do.

"EVERYONE!" yowled the mighty shout of Owlheart, standing in the entrance with Pouncefoot at his side, "Everyone needs to calm down! Quiet! Pouncefoot has brought word."

The platform fell into a tense silence. Oakheart continued, "Pouncefoot has just come from the mountain base, and it doesn't look good. We need to evacuate the mountain as soon as we can, but please don't all loose your heads! Get the youngest and oldest out first. Flowermist! Stealthmouse! Check the nursing dens and trails, make sure no one is left behind, stay together! I'll wait for you here," the ginger tom turned to the rest of the islanders, "I believe Witherfoot is the only one out at the moment. Track him down the moment you get far away enough from the mountain. As for—"

"Wait!" screeched a tom from the center of the crowd, "Wait! Plumpoppy and Ratkit left just an hour ago!" the tom was Coppertail.

Owlheart narrowed his eyes, "Do you know where they went?"

"No, Plumpoppy didn't tell me, but they can't have gone far! I can find them!"

Owlheart nodded, "Very well. Bring them to the northern border," he turned to everyone else, "Everyone is to meet at the northern border! Let's go! No time to lose!"

Some uneasy glances and gasps rose from the clowder.

"The northern border?"

"After that terrible battle? We can't loose more islanders to Swamp Cats!

"I know about the conflict with Swamp Cats. It seems dangerous, but right now, it's the safest place to be on the island! Now let's go! Move!"

With that everyone began hurrying where they were instructed to go, Honeywhisker ran to the curer den in a panic. How could she possibly bring both Snailpelt and Jaggedear to safety?

Breathing harder, Honeywhisker poked her head out of her den once more, and scanned for help.

Batflight and Blackpaw were helping Streakmist carry her kits to the tunnel entrance. Everyone else was too much in a rush to notice her. Except,

"Hawkpaw! Foxpaw!" cried Honeywhisker desperately. To her relief, they pricked their ears, spotted her, and came bounding to the curer den.

"What's wrong? We gotta go!" exclaimed Foxpaw.

"I can't! Snailpelt and Jaggedear are sick, and I can't carry them!"

"We'll help you," nodded Hawkpaw solemnly, leaping after Honeywhisker to the den. There lay the two sick toms. Jaggedear coughed himself awake, bright green eyes flashing.

"Alright, I can handle Jaggedear, he's smaller, and you guys will have to carry—"

"What's going on?" rasped Jaggedear.

"Jaggedear, the mountain could give way any second, and we have to get you two out before—"

The mountain began to shake, sickening crumbling noises erupted from below them.

"Stop," muttered Jaggedear, glancing at Snailpelt, "Honeywhisker, I know it's your duty to save us, and it may feel like the noble thing to do, but you must leave us."  
"Listen, Jaggedear. We're not going to leave you."

"No, you listen. Snailpelt and I have served the islanders many times over. We fought battles, killed prey, and raised kits. But you, Honeywhisker, you're a bran-new curer. The islanders still need you, and you have much to live for. Leave me."

"We don't have time for this!" growled Foxpaw, feeling the mountain begin to rumble again.

"I can't. Witherfoot would never forgive me!" mewed Honeywhisker, eyes tearing up.

"No!" hissed Jaggedear, before falling into a coughing fit, "I refuse to let you die saving me!"

Hawkpaw and Foxpaw had an unconscious Snailpelt on their shoulders, hardly being able to walk. Jaggedear coughed harder.

"Jaggedear, now's not the time to be stubborn!"

Jaggedear coughed and hacked, blood splattering over his nest.

He smiled at Honeywhisker weakly, "Goodbye, young curer. Fulfill your destiny." With that, Jaggedear fell limp, blood dripping form his jaws.

"Honeywhisker, the three of us can still carry Snailpelt, if we hurry!" shouted Foxpaw, beginning to tremble. The ground rumbled harder, resembling the earthquake.

Honeywhisker gulped in sorrow, staring at Jaggedear's maybe living body. She turned to her friends, "Ok. Let's go."

The three of them jogged down the tunnel, going only as fast as they could with a big tom of their backs.

When they finally arrived on the common ground, they dragged Snailpelt further and further from the mountain, closer to the northern border.

They stopped to catch their breaths.

"Hon...Honeywhisker, how...how far are we...to the border?" huffed Hawkpaw, laying down to catch her breath.

"We're a safe distance from the mountain. But I don't know about—"

She was interrupted by a loud, rumbling, grinding, and crashing sound.

"What's going on?"

"I'll find out," said Foxpaw, copper eyes shining. The lithe ginger tom leapt onto a tree trunk, hauling himself up. He climbed onto a branch ten feet in the air, them turned to the direction of the sound. His face fell

"What? What's wrong?" asked Honeywhisker.

Foxpaw turned to her, looking horror-struck, "The, the mountain," he stuttered, "It's collapsed."

"What? Impossible! The mountain's too big! It can't have possibly just crumbled!"

"But it did," breathed Foxpaw, turning to where to mountain used to be, "It's all gone."

Hawkpaw and Honeywhisker exchanged horrified glances. Five more minutes and they all would be dead.

"Oh my goodness," muttered Honeywhisker quietly, "Jaggedear was right."

Foxpaw jumped from the branch. He wrapped his tail around Honeywhisker's bristly, hazel fur. Her muscled relaxed at his touch.

"You did nothing wrong," meowed Foxpaw, "Jaggedear was brave, and did the right thing. Don't feel responsible for his death."

Honeywhisker whisker's twitched, then suddenly jerked away, "But if I convinced him to leave earlier, he could have lived, too!"

"Honeywhisker, he wouldn't—"

"No. It's my duty to serve and save my fellow islanders," she shook her head, "And I've failed. What will Witherfoot think?"

"He'll be proud that you managed to get us and Snailpelt out alive!" piped up Hawkpaw, "My brother's right, for once. You did fine. They best you can do right now is to take care of Snailpelt until we find the others."

Honeywhisker stared at her paws, before turning around and padding underneath some shrubs, "I just wanna be alone right now."

Foxpaw looked up, "It'll be dark in a few hours. We should camp here and find the islanders tomorrow. Hawkpaw meowed in agreement

Honeywhisker had already checked Snailpelt. His heartbeat, breathing and coughing seemed fine. The greencough wasn't going to kill him, anytime soon at least. But she dug a den for the sick tom, and made a nest. She felt exposed with no herbs.

After taking care of him, Honeywhisker curled up underneath the shrubs and rested her chin on her paws. It was a winter night. All that could be heard was the soft, eerie whoosh of the subtle breeze as it roamed through the frosty branches and snowy grounds.

 _Seedkit? Are you listening? Can you hear me?_ Honeywhisker pricked her ears, then shook her head.

 _I must be crazy. Of course she can't hear me. She's gone. Just like Jaggedear, and Snaketail, and who knows whom else._

Honeywhisker's mind drifted to her dream, a few half-moons back, the one she had of Seedkit.

 _The images of the pond, the trees, the birds, and the kits came to sight. Mousekit and Seedkit bounded from a willow tree, to the water's edge. Honeywhisker struggled in vain to scream at them, begging them to stop. But no sound came out. She couldn't move. Seedkit leapt onto the rock, pawing at Mousekit playfully. Honeywhisker tried harder and harder to jump in and stop her sister. But her paws felt as if they were stuck in sap, and her jaws clamped shut._

 _Mousekit jumped up and playfully batted his paws at Seedkit. This time was different. Mousekit once again rounded up, and pounced on Seedkit. Both tumbled into the pond and Honeywhisker struggled to screech louder and harder._

 _But just as quickly as they fell, their weak struggles to swim disappeared beneath the surface._


	12. Rising Tensions

**Chapter 11/ Rising Tensions**

Owlheart paced. His ginger paws swept the ground as they pressed in the dirt. The mountain was gone. The mountain was destroyed. The curers, as well as several islanders were missing. Now, the remaining islanders were wandering aimlessly through the forest, hopelessly exposed with hardly any shelter.

How could this happen? And so quickly?  
"We must leave the island," grumbled Batflight, his yellow eyes flashing, "We're low on prey, and have no were to go."

"And what makes you think there'll be hills of plentiful prey off the island?" argued Doegaze, the shadow council member.

"What else are we supposed to do? Stay here and die in the snow? What if the ground shakes again? We'll starve!" hissed Otterstreak

"Crossing the river is too dangerous with several kits, even if it's frozen in some spots," mumbled Featherfoot.

Owlheart shook his head. The council was having a private meeting, at midnight in the snowy night. They could come to no solution. Was there one? What if they couldn't agree on one? All that had been accomplished so far in this meeting is that every cat was in terrible danger.

"Owlheart?" meowed Doegaze, staring at the ginger tom. The other council members looked to him expectantly. They always depended on him on things like this.

"You always know how to handle things like this," she urged.

Owlheart sighed, "What can we do? We're stuck. We can keep the islanders calm, for now, but I don't think there's much else we can do."

"If it were all up to you, what would you do?" asked Featherfoot. Owlheart stared at his paws. He sighed again.

"I say, we try, _try_ to find some sort of shelter, and find out what's become of the missing cats. Once we've done that, we'll cross the river."

The other four council members exchanged uneasy glances. This was a risky decision. But at the same time, there weren't many options at the moment.

"I second that," replied Batflight, breaking the silence, "But all the ice will melt as newleaf comes in a couple of moons. I say we give the missing cats a moon. After that, we leave. Agree?"

The council members were hesitant, but after a few moments of silence, they too slowly nodded.

"So we've come to an agreement then. But what do we tell the islanders? Honeywhisker, Foxpaw, Blackpaw, Witherfoot, Jaggedear, Plumpoppy, Coppertail, Snailpelt and Ratkit are all missing. There's no way they'll agree to leave without them," explained Batflight.

"I'm on it," replied Otterstreak, "I can tell them."

The councils murmured with agreement.

The next morning, the islanders were buzzing, eager to hear what they were going to do. Several of them were squabbling.

The air was a bitter cold. It nipped at everyone's noses. Tension hung in the air.

Streakmist's' kits shivered as they huddled with their mother.

"Mommy? Where's daddy? Is he back yet?" mewed Palekit, her nose quivering.

"No, darling. Not yet," muttered Streakmist. Her eyes were glazed with worry.

Suddenly, Squirrelkit burst into the clearing through the frost, "They're ready!" he yowled. Instantly, the several lounging cats rose to their feet, and chatter arose.

Everyone was anxious to know what the council had decided they would do.

Otterstreak trotted from the cave and gracefully leapt onto a stump, which had been uprooted by the quakes.

"Everyone," greeted Otterstreak in her firm voice. The islanders quieted and pricked their ears to hear.

After a deep breath, Otterstreak continued, "I understand you're all in shock, worry, and fear. Trust me, were all traumatized by recent events. But I can assure you that everything is going to be all right. Our situation is under control," As soon as she stopped to take a breath, the cats erupted into murmurs and outbursts.

"Under control, she says?"

"We've nowhere to stay!"

"What about the missing cats?"

"The curers are gone!"

"Well die of sickness!"

"Well starve!"

"Everyone! Everyone calm down!" yowled Otterstreak. The ginger and white she cat kept her voice steady, her posture unmoving, "Let me explain! Remember the hollow Batflight discovered a few moons ago? We can stay there. The weak can rest there, and the rest of us can hunt. As for the missing ones, were going to to attempt to track them. Unfortunately, I'm warning you now that there's a chance several of them didn't make it. But well spend the next moon looking for them. Well decide what to do from there. Were all going to be all right. Ok?"

The worried whispers died down. But cats still exchanged uneasy glances.

Pouncefoot arrogantly stepped forward. He puffed out his chest as he spoke, "What do you expect us to do if one of us gets sick? Snaketail's dead, Witherfoot and Honeywhisker are missing, Streakmist knows at thing or two about herbs, but she's got enough on her paws," challenged the tabby tom.

"I was getting to that. There are a couple of cats that know some basics about first aid and herbs. In the meantime, Featherfoot has reported living scent traces of Honeywhisker, and Doegaze is preparing search parties for Witherfoot as we speak. We just have to hope no one gets seriously ill in the meantime."

Otterstreak could still feel the unease in the air as she leapt down from the gnarled stump.

Glancing back at the crowd, she caught Pouncefoot's angry yellow glare, Goldenberry at his side. They were popular, and if they hated the council, everyone else might as well.

 _Please still be alive, Honeywhisker,_ thought Doegaze, _If you don't stay in one piece, I cant imagine how we can._

 **Sorry for a delayed update. I went on vacation, and then had to catch up on homework and tests, etc. Read and Review, and thanks for viewing!**


	13. Geez

**Chapter 12/ Geez**

Rain poured down on the island one morning.

It was warm enough for rain to fall, but cold enough for the snow to stay.

Through the puddles, and with rain dripping from his whiskers, Ratkit slouched beside Plumpoppy and Coppertail.

They had been tracking the others for days, but it had been a half moon since the mountain collapsed. Finding the islanders shouldn't have been hard, but the uprooted landscape made it nearly impossible to locate old scents. Plumpoppy feared that the islanders had abandoned them, or worse, perished.

Ratkit shivered as a chilly breeze rippled through him. The rain soaking his pelt felt colder than ice.

The landscape was bizarre. Half of the trees were pulled from the earth. Water rippled throughout every nook and cranny of the forest floor as streams. Boulders were scattered everywhere. Prey was scarce.

Plumpoppy turned to Ratkit, shaking and soaked to the bone. Her eyes glimmered with sadness, "Are you hungry, Ratkit?"

Ratkit nodded, only half listening.

"Alright. Let's stop and see if we can find anything," sighed Plumpoppy, turning to hunt.

"Coppertail raised an eyebrow, "You caught two mice in a row the other day, and a squirrel the day before that. Ratkit's nearly three moons old. Why not let him give it a try?"

Ratkit jerked his chin up, "What?"

"You heard me," replied the tom, leaping onto a log, "I want you to try to hunt."

Ratkit stared at him, confused. The sound of the rain swelled.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," meowed Plumpoppy, "But good luck trying to scent out prey in this terrain."

Coppertail nodded to the kit, "Just give it a try."

"But, how?" asked Ratkit

"Ratkit, you know what prey smells like. You eat it every day. Look for it."

Taking a deep breath, Ratkit crouched down, just like Plumpoppy showed him how. He crawled around, searching for a whiff of prey.

On the log, Coppertail sat patiently with his tail over his paws.

Ratkit continued to search for prey. But, when he got to about ten fox-lengths away, a strong scent hit his nose. Not prey, but something...something uncomfortably familiar.

In his mind, the sight of the limb, blood-matted body of Snaketail flashed before him, before a frightful sight of the big, smelly gray tom.

Ratkit jumped backwards, into reality, yowling. He landed in the cold mud with a splat.

Plumpoppy widened her eyes, then leapt from the log, "Ratkit? What's wrong?" She asked anxiously. She stode through the wet ferns faster.

"Ratkit?" her voice rising with concern.

"Mom?" whimpered Ratkit. He shivered harder.

Plumpoppy looked around him, confused, "What in the name of Blackfang happened?

"The...the scent... stuttered Ratkit.

Plumpoppy immediately ducked her muzzle into the ferns. Then turned to her son with fear, "You...you recognize it?"

Ratkit's face hardened, "Swamp Cats."

All three cats jumped at the sound of the bushes rustling.

"Ratkit, get behind me, hissed Plumpoppy. Coppertail leapt to her side.

Ratkit obeyed her, ducking behind her dappled fur.

A tense moment passed. The bush rustled again.

Coppertail let a growl escape his throat.

Suddenly, a muddy-furred, yellow tom strolled from the underbrush. His devilish eyes gleamed.

"Well, well, if you will lookie here," he snarled, "Hey Geez, we got some loners over here!"

Ratkit trembled as a dark black tabby followed his yellow counterpart.

Coppertail stood taller, squaring his muscles, "Who are you?"

The tabby tom just stared, "These aren't just loners, Shet. These ones are islanders," he jaws curled into a crooked grin. His eyes gleamed with pleasure when he noticed Ratkit.

"Stand down," growled Coppertail to the ragged pair of toms, "You're no match for us."

The swamp cats didn't flinch, nor move. Four other skinny cats crept around them, hissing with hatred. None taking their eyes off the islanders.

Plumpoppy wrapped her tail around Ratkit. Coppertail glanced around nervously.

"Well, I have to say, I would _so scared_ in the presence of such an intimidating cat," spat the yellow tom mockingly, shoving his nose in Coppertail's face, "But it would seem you're outnumbered."

"Shut it, Shet," barked the tabby. He taller stood over the islanders, amber eyes flashing. He cocked his head.

"What kind of business do soft-furred islanders have in our part of the woods?"

 _Soft-furred!_ Thought Ratkit. _How dare he! We'll show him!_

" _Your_ part of the forest?" hissed Coppertail, "The island belongs to us! _You're_ the intruders!"

Geez glanced around him, "My my, that sounds quite unfortunate, for you. It seems you have no other softie islanders to back you up on that, other than a scrawny queen and her kit."

Coppertail stood in silence, defeated. Ratkit only scowled.

"I forgot your name. Coppertail, is it? Well, Coppertail, Hek's been expanding his land ever since your little earthquake. As of this moon, this land belongs to Hek."

 _Hek? Geez? Shet? This cats have weird names._ Thought Ratkit.

"The islanders won't stand for this," warned Coppertail boldly, "Owlheart will find out. Then you'll be sorry."

Geez flicked his tail.

At the signal, the eager swamp cats began to close in, grinding their teeth with anticipation.

Two of the swamp cats pounced on and pinned down Coppertail, who struggled wildly.

The yellow tom they called Shet raised a paw over Plumpoppy.

"Please!" she begged, "We're alone! We aren't a threat! It's just us!"

The swamp cats paused, waiting for Geez's command.

Geez's grin widened, "Oh? Then what will you for us to make us leave?"

"Anything," she mumbled, cowering into submission.

Ratkit clenched his teeth as he watched the devilish swamp cat smirk at his mother's fear. The way Geez's face twisted in delight made Ratkit want to claw it off.

"Fine," said Geez, his face unmoving, "Then how about this?"

With than, the black tabby snatched up Ratkit and pinned him under his paw. Pain crashed through his torso.

"NO!" shrieked Plumpoppy, startled. The other three swamp cats surrounded her.

Geez laughed, "I love how queens are about their kits. Touching. Amusing, even."

Plumpoppy's frantic expression turned to a scowl, "What do you want?"

"You're outsiders, intruding on our territory. We ought to chase you two out and kill this one," growled Geez, pressing harder on Ratkit's chest. He struggled to breathe as the pain grew more intense.

"Geez, just wait a second!" exclaimed Shet, his eyes widening.

"What now, crow-brain? This was just getting good."

"They're intruders, yes. But they're _islanders_. You know how they are about their group. After the earthquake, and all this destruction, I'll bet they're on the trail of the rest of them."

"So?"

"So, you know what Hek wants to find. They might be the key to finding them."

Ratkit's mind was spinning. _Who's Hek? What was it he wanted to find?_ All he could think about was not dying.

"I...well," Geez lessoned the pressure off Ratkit's airway, "You may have a point. But you know we can't just march two full-grown enemies into our hideout."

The swamp cats paused again.

Geez lifted his paw off of Ratkit. For a second, Ratkit thought he saw pity in the tom's eye.

Geez frowned, "Just kill the tom. We'll take the other two to the fortress."

Ratkit was too big to carry by scruff. But Geez sunk his yellow teeth into his scruff and dragged him away. His sight was blocked.

"No! Coppertail! Coppertail!" screamed Ratkit. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just see the swamp cats wrestling Plumpoppy as she withered wildly, and Coppertail roaring for his life.

Their screams became weaker and weaker as Geez dragged him away.


End file.
